Nightfall
by HaraKumiko
Summary: When a Deathstalker with no name collides with a traveling runemaster, the last thing he expects is for it to be destiny. Crappy summary is crappy right now. A World of Warcraft AU.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: WTF is this? Apparently, my addiction to World of Warcraft was more severe than I thought.  
I figured I'd give a shot at these AU things sneaking around in the shadows of HiNaBN fandom, although this is more like a crossover. And did you know that it's really hard to refer to characters when they're nameless? Especially when you have to use the same pronouns... guh.  
But, yeah. Hopefully, the character's transitions into the world of Azeroth are believable.

* * *

**I.**

He couldn't remember a time in his undeath when he hadn't been holding a weapon.

From the minute he'd awoken and found himself free of an almost forgotten whisper, a raw, intangible rope that held itself around his mind and tugged at each urging to kill and take no mercy, he'd felt strangely empty, completely void of the anger his brethren showed when they rose with the prospect of freedom. But the undertaker had handed him a sword, and that was all he needed.

He supposed he was pretty talented with a weapon. After all, most of the creatures that the various inhabitants of Deathknell needed killed for various supplies and decreased threat to the community were dispatched with one good strike. But he didn't think that he was anything too special.  
At least, until he set foot in Brill for the first time.  
It had been at least a fortnight since he stumbled out of the crypts and into free existence. The Deathstalkers guarding the town nearly dropped into permanent death when they saw him, and immediately sent him in the direction of their commander, Executor Zygand. "Erm, Executor?" he said uncomfortably, trying to ignore the way everyone was staring.  
With a sigh, the horse-mounted Forsaken held up a piece of parchment and a quill. "Name?"  
"Excuse me?"  
"You were sent to help fight the Scarlet Crusade, right?"  
"W-well... actually, I was told to speak to you by the guards. And... I don't remember my name."  
The executor looked up, probably ready to tell him off for wasting his time. But glowing yellow eyes blinked, peered closer. "By the Dark Lady... inside. Now."  
Startled, he made his way into what he somehow knew was the town hall.

"The Nameless One," they dubbed him. The magistrate and a visiting apothecary recalled how he had been a ruthless agent of the Lich King, his talents on par with a Death Knight initiate. "You... don't remember?" Magistrate Sevren questioned, flipping open an old and musty tome.  
"Nothing. I can't even recall my name." His eyes scanned the rotted wood of the town hall, seeing only inky blackness when he tried to look back and imagine the screams of the innocent lives he'd supposedly taken. "Nothing," he repeated softly.  
"Sstrange. Ssomeone as experienced as you should have retained ssome memoriess." The apothecary stroked his jaw, frowning and pushing up on it. There was a loud pop as the jawbone locked into place, and when he spoke next, it was much clearer, his hissing dying down so that it was barely recognizable. "But I'm sure we'll think of something."  
"In the meantime," Magistrate Sevren said, reaching for a quill. "I think it would be best for you to go and visit Aleric Hawkins. I'm sure he'll find a use for you."  
"Aleric?" The nameless man quirked an eyebrow.  
"A Deathstalker. He's assisting Captain Bragor Bloodfist - from the Kor'kron Guard." The magistrate started to scribble a message onto a frayed and wrinkled piece of parchment, slowly and deliberately. "They usually only accept those of the rogue profession, but with your talents, they'll probably make an exception." With a dry grin, he folded over the parchment and held it out. "Take this to him as soon as possible."

"We need a name," one of the Deathstalkers said, annoyance clear in her surprisingly unscathed features. She was young, most likely having died from the plague.  
"I'd give you one, if I knew it," he replied as respectfully as he could, watching as the other Forsaken looked over his note from the magistrate. "But as the note states, my abilities would be useful here." He bit his tongue to keep from adding 'apparently'; confidence was probably the best value in this situation.  
"We usually only accept those who deal in stealth," she added, eying him up and down. "Not too easy when you rush in screaming."  
He met her yellow eyes with his own, slightly more orange-tinted ones. He could imagine what she saw: a thin and lanky, surprisingly decay-free cadaver, skin tinged green, black hair only as ruffled as it would be if he'd just rolled out of bed and marked with white tufts by his temples. "I assure you, I don't 'rush in screaming'."  
"This sseemss to check out," the other Deathstalker hissed, beckoning the newcomer with a clawed finger. "But ve need to tesst you."  
The man known as The Nameless One just sighed.

Deathstalker training came easily; all he had to do was procure a letter of introduction from a messenger in Silverpine and present it to an apothecary at the Sepulcher in order to gain information about possible double-crossing. Getting this letter came with an unforeseen bath in undead ichor, as the Astor fellow was quite paranoid and put up a fight. But either way, he was eventually inducted as the first warrior initiate of the Deathstalkers, appropriately named Deathstalker Nameless.  
Which was how he got stuck on patrolling the road between the Undercity and the Sepulcher.  
Hand on the hilt of his sword, he strolled slowly and carefully down the stone path, his eyes scrolling over the landscape in search of anything out of the ordinary. Occasionally, he caught a flash of black, matted fur from a passing worg, or the brief warning growl from a bear, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

The incoming thudding of hooves on the stone was the only warning he received before a blur of red shot past him, screaming out in a tongue so blurred that he couldn't even tell what it was. In an attempt to dodge, he jumped to the side, rolling right into the rotting fence to the side of the road. The hooves faded, slowed, then grew louder and softer. "Are you alright?" the voice called, sounding young, naive, and worried. With a groan, he looked up, coughing and grabbing at his sword. "Oh shit."  
The young man who had nearly run him over looked to be very young, barely past adulthood, with a mess of fiery hair sitting on top of his boyish face. His eyes were a clear blue, like sapphires, hidden behind thick spectacles. He was clad in cloth, and his horse was a Champange mare, who whinnied and scuffed the ground with a hoof nervously. "Easy, girl," the human said, sliding off of the mare to rush to the Forsaken's side.  
He was met with a blade to his throat. "S...state your business here," the nameless man coughed, pulling himself to his knees.  
"W-whoa. Uh, I'm just... passing though, look, if you're okay, I'll just go now," the human stammered, eyes flicking to look over in the direction he had just come from.  
"Towards the Undercity?" He straightened his back in an attempt to seem more superior, eyes narrowing more in curiosity than in contempt.  
"J-just passing through," was the repeated response. But before he could question any further, there was a horrible shriek and a blast of frozen air that knocked them both onto the ground. "Get away!" He heard the young man yell in fear, nearly lost over the howling wind and the frantic neighing of the mare.  
"You can't run forever, Cross!" a female voice hissed, a voice that he could immediately identify as a banshee's.  
"Leave me ALONE!" He heard an odd noise, like something being shot at high pressure into the air, and his attempt to sit up was interrupted by hands covering his ears. As he opened his eyes, he saw that the mare had disappeared, and the banshee's mouth was open in what he knew was a deadly scream. He watched as, slowly and sluggishly, the human kicked his leg out, and a shot of blue energy struck out at the ethereal figure of a woman, the scream cut short by the blow. When the hands were released from him, part of him wanted to roll to the side and finish the banshee off with a good slash of his sword, but fortunately, the more logical part of his mind won; unless his blade was blessed, there was no way he could harm her.

The stranger, however, could. He rolled back the sleeves on his rail-thin arms, revealing runes etched all over his skin, and let loose. Flashes and whips of blue energy struck at the banshee over and over, each emphasized by a fearful insult. "Burn -" Slash! "In the -" Slash! "Nether!" And with one last cry, the wind slowed and died as she faded, its last remnants taking her energy with it. Slowly climbing to his feet, the Deathstalker initiate could only watch as the human fell to a knee, gasping and panting. "Damn. I... overdid it." Looking up, sapphire blue eyes searched around until they met the glowing orange of the Forsaken's. "Sorry..."

Making his way over to the young man, the Deathstalker almost felt sorry for him; he was very fragile-looking, like one shove would break him in half, the smallest stream of blood falling down face from his ears (from the banshee's scream, no doubt). But the innocence behind his eyes was the most noticeable; almost admirable. It wasn't really something you saw these days, after all of the war and disaster that had been striking the world. "Uh..." he said, unsure of how to continue. "...good job?"  
Apparently, it was the right thing to say, because the human beamed, adjusting his glasses - miraculously, they hadn't fallen off in the fight. "Yeah, I've never expelled that much energy at once before. I'm getting better." His eyes flashed excitedly; he was definitely new to magic.

His expression fell into one of confusion when the Forsaken's blade went up to his neck. "Good. Now, you're coming with me."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Hmm. This version of Worth is kinda weird to write. See if you can figure out why.

* * *

**II.**

The human was silent as he was led down the path towards Brill, having given up after begging to be let go. "I need to find Rosaline!" he had said, blue eyes trying to peer searchingly through the sparse, dead-looking pines.  
The Deathstalker had nearly suggested that they go together, so that there couldn't be a chance to escape, but logic won over the almost hypnotizing effect his companion held. The right thing to do was to take him for the Dark Lady to decide on a punishment for intruding on Forsaken territory. "Horses are smart, human. And if she hasn't found shelter, she's most likely dead. Now go," had been his reply, with a nudge from the point of his sword.  
Having a prisoner was strange, paranoia hinging over his mind with the thoughts of what would happen if the human decided to use his magic to escape. He kept close, placing his sword appropriate to a direction or place that he swore he saw the young man inch towards. But when Brill became visible in the distance of approaching night, the human tensed, still walking, and tried to plead again. "Look, you saw that thing that was after me. I-I wasn't -"  
"Dark Lady's orders," the Deathstalker replied, frowning at the sympathy creeping into his voice.  
"B-but..." The redhead faltered, falling silent once again.

As they passed the threshold into Brill, the Forsaken felt himself relax slightly. Even if the human tried to escape now, he could be apprehended by the other guards in the vicinity, guards that grinned evilly and exclaimed at the sight of an Alliance prisoner. "Left," he said, urging his companion towards the town hall.  
Executor Zygand was distributing coin to a weak, shriveled thing of a Forsaken, most likely a reward for some kind of bounty, but looked up and saluted at the sight of the initiate. "First real mission and you catch an intruder. Impressive."  
"Beginner's luck," he replied as he ascended the steps, ignoring the nervous and dreading groan that almost inaudibly left the human's lips.

Magistrate Sevren jumped to his feet as they entered the conference room, eyes widening. "I caught this human on the path from Silverpine." Nudging the redhead forward with the flat of his blade, he watched the fragile young man jump slightly before bowing his head. "He claims to mean no harm."  
"'Cause I don't!" the human cried, looking up with some annoyance at having to repeat himself so many times.  
"Why should we believe the likes of you?" The female Deathstalker that seemed hellbent on disproving the nameless man's place in the organization was there, serving her duty as the magistrate's guard for the night. She sneered, thin purple hair sticking to her face as she cocked her head to the side.  
"Is this the face of someone who'd lie?" Clasping his hands behind his back, the innocence in those sapphire eyes seemed to increase tenfold as the young man tried to look as guilt-less as possible. The nameless man had to bite his tongue to keep from chuckling.  
"It's the face of a bleeder. And that's all that matters." The human deflated as the Deathstalker turned to Magistrate Sevren. "What should we do with him?"  
Closing his mouth, the magistrate shut his eyes and remained still for a good few seconds. "The cellar of the Gallows' End Tavern," he said finally, looking at the young man with a condemning gaze. "For the night. Then, to the Undercity for punishment."  
The Deathstalker scowled. "The cellar...? What, with that dirty elf?"  
"It's temporary, Elistra," the magistrate said, not looking at her. "Besides, I'm sure he'll enjoy the company. Deathstalker... Nameless, is it? Escort him. Renee will show you where to go."

**{}**

"Deathstalker Nameless?"  
He shrugged at the questioning tone in the human's voice as they made their way to the next building over. "I don't remember my real name."  
"Really?" The redhead twisted his neck around to show that an eyebrow was quirked. "Like, no idea?"  
The Forsaken just shrugged again as they stepped into the main room of the Gallows' End Tavern. A fire was blazing and crackling, creating an odd, comforting feeling amidst the musty  
smell in the air. The occasional sound of a mug thudding against the rotting wood tables accompanied idle Gutterspeak chatter, but stopped once the patrons noticed the newcomers. Shifting uncomfortably on his feet, the human let out a nervous chuckle and stepped back, closer to his captor, who took the lead and approached an older-looking Forsaken woman standing near the bar. "Are you Renee?" he asked, sheathing his sword.  
She turned to him, a dry smile coming to her face. "Can I get you anything?" she rasped, her voice echoing with a failed attempt to sound welcoming. At their disbelieving expressions, her smile quickly fell into a natural scowl. "Not buying it, are you? Fine. Are you going to buy anything, or do I have to kick you out?"  
The Deathstalker's lips formed a half-smile. "At least you tried. The magistrate told me to come to you."  
Pausing, the woman eyed the living man without any sense of curiosity. "Another one, eh? Follow me." She turned and started into the doorway into the back room behind the counter, not waiting to see if they were following. Turning at a table with rotting meat piled on it, she stopped at the beginning of a hidden stairway and stomped on the floor.

After a second, a voice called up, "Ye?"  
"You've got company."  
"Fuckin' Light, you kiddin'?" The sound of objects clattering echoed up the stairway, the voice somewhat excited. "Tell me it's a client."  
"Sorry, pumpkin, it's a prisoner." The tone of her voice suggested that she wasn't sorry in the slightest. "I'm sending them down."  
"Thanks f'r askin', sweetheart," the voice replied dryly, excitement gone, but Renee still turned to the two and jerked her head in the direction of the stairs.  
They stood, motionless, for a good few seconds after the woman disappeared back out into the main room, but the Deathstalker finally took a breath, grabbed the human by the arm, and escorted him down the stairs.

Unlike the main room of the tavern, the cellar smelled heavily of ale and tobacco, thick and stuffy. The redhead coughed, waving a hand in front of his face and squinting his eyes. From behind the giant kegs of ale, a shadowed figure moved before shuffling forward into vision.  
He was the strangest thing the Forsaken had ever seen. Long, pointed ears and glowing, fel-green eyes clearly identified him as a blood elf, but that was the only thing that was recognizable. Blond hair that looked almost yellow sat on his head, cut short and spiked slightly in the front, while a decent layer of stubble sat his scowling, tired face. Rail thin and dressed in dirty, fur-lined robes, he bit at a fingernail and raised an eyebrow, speaking in an accent that the Deathstalker was accustomed to hearing from peasants and lower-class Forsaken. "Wot's this, now?"  
"An intruder, from the Alliance," the Deathstalker said cautiously, wrinkling his nose just slightly; the smell was starting to get to him.  
"Pfeh. Knew that. Why'dje bring 'im _here_?" As if to emphasize, the elf pointed at the ground with both hands.  
"I was told to."  
"Eh, should've figured. Name's Lucian, yer unfriendly neighb'rhood doct'r. Call me Worth, 'f ye want." Pausing, he eyed the human up and down. "And 'm guessin' I'll be yer host f'r the evenin'."  
The human straightened slightly, smiling brightly. "Hi! That's the most welcoming thing anyone's said to me today!"  
"Poor thing," Worth said flatly, leaning casually against a keg before focusing on the Deathstalker. "Just f'r the night, right?"  
"That's what the magistrate said."

The elf nodded absently before he reached over and grabbed the redhead by the arm, who flinched at the force put into the gesture. "Ow!" He was led to a dusty corner of the room, where there was a shabby cot and chains hanging from the wall. "You're kidding, right? You have to tie me up?"  
"Standard procedure," Worth replied, locking the cuffs at the end of the chains around the human's wrists and ankles. "The thing's I do t'make a livin'..." he muttered, shooting a sideways glance to the Forsaken. "Comes wit' the property. Y'can leave now."  
Hesitating, he gave one last look at the human. The prospect of being in chains had drained some of his energetic nature, but his eyes never left the elf. As he turned and went up the stairs, he could hear the human ask conversationally, "So, what's an elf like you doing down here anyway?"

Part of him wondered the exact same thing, but the other part of him carried him to Executor Zygand and asked for an assignment. All he wanted now was to forget it all happened. And he happily agreed to go and scout out the Agamand Mills, so long as it got him out of Brill and away from that human.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: There is plot progression! And a Conrad!

* * *

**III.**

With gnoll blood staining his blade, Deathstalker Nameless (the name was actually starting to catch on to him) made his way down the path back to Brill. His plan to distract himself had started to work in the last five minutes he'd spent fighting graverobbers and grunts, and he was now focused on secretly wishing that he'd be sent anywhere that was far away from town; he had a strange longing to explode more of Tirisfal Glades, to see the fallen kingdom of Lordaeron in its entirety.

The sound of shouting brought him from his thoughts; Exectuor Zygand's voice, angry and berating. Immediately, he tightened his grip on the hilt of his scimitar and broke into a run, scale armor clinking with each step. Coming to a stop just to the side of the entrance to the Gallows' End Tavern, he was met with the sight of injured guards leaning against the outside wall of the building. Executor Zygand was pacing, his eyes turning to Worth in a glare when he wasn't watching the ground while the elf held his head and looked to be asleep standing up. The long, dark bruise cutting diagonally across his face was nearly unnoticeable at a first glance, looking almost natural to his rugged face and features. "What happened?" he asked quietly.

Deathstalker Elistra, one of the few still standing, jerked her head in his direction, eyes narrowing. "That damn human broke out." Ignoring his stunned expression, she kicked at a pebble on the ground before her. "You should've told us he was a mage! We didn't stand a chance. Praise the Shadows he wasn't aiming to kill."  
A nearby cleric nodded in agreement, never taking her eyes from her glowing hands as they channeled Light to heal a guard's nearly severed arm. "If he had, there'd be nothing left of this one."  
"Wus no kin'a magic they teach in yer average academy," Worth muttered under his breath, opening his eyes just a fraction. "Runemastery 'f I've ever seen it."  
Executor Zygand paused in his tracks before slowly turning, approaching the elf with intent in his stride. "You know that type of magic?" he growled.  
"Only seen it once're twice. Hadda Tauren client, used it te crack a dwarf's skull open." A small, unsettling smirk came to Worth's lips.  
There was a good few seconds of silence before the executor barked, "Nameless."

He snapped to attention. "Executor?"  
"He managed to escape on the zeppelin to Vengeance Landing. Assuming he somehow manages to hide himself and get past our forces there, you're going after him and tracking him down. Someone that powerful is too dangerous to let go free." Finally taking his eyes off of the elf, Executor Zygand stared the Deathstalker down, his eyes glowing fiercely. "Leave as soon as possible."  
The nameless man's expression didn't change from the blank, stunned gaze he'd taken on. That human who looked like a gust of wind would snap him in half had escaped from chains _and_ taken down the guards? And _he_ was supposed to go and catch him?  
"Elf!" he heard the executor snap. "Come with me." Out of the corner of his vision, he saw the elf heave a sigh and reach into his pockets, pulling out a cigarette as he followed the Forsaken into the tavern.  
But he only jumped and started for the zeppelin after a few seconds and hearing Deathstalker Elistra sneer, "What's wrong? Did your bones freeze up? Get going!"

The goblins in charge of The Cloudkisser, the zeppelin to Vengeance Landing, scrambled as he arrived on the platform, chattering in their own language. They started to move a minute after he stepped foot onto the deck, making him stumble and nearly lose his balance. But once he got used to the feeling of being pulled through the air, he made his way up to the captain's deck and took a seat, watching as the trees below him faded into ocean. "No offense to your crew, Miss..."  
"Cryoflight," the captain finished, never tearing her gaze from the expansive space before her.  
"Cryoflight. But how did you miss a human boarding the zeppelin?"  
She sighed, and he could practically imagine her rolling her eyes. "He jumped onto the balcony down below while we were pulling off for our first round. Plus, he glamoured himself. We thought he was just another newbie wanting to go chew on some bones."  
Deathstalker Nameless thought this over. It made sense. The human could have disguised himself and laid low until they reached the port in Howling Fjord; the goblins were probably used to seeing various stragglers during inspection rounds. "Did you see where he went when you dropped off?"  
"He tore off the port and towards the wilds. Nearly tripped over a loose board and fell into the sea, too." She giggled quietly at this. "But, y'know, some of the grave-crawlers don't have very good balance, so it didn't seem too odd."

As they ventured farther across the ocean, he could feel the air start to get colder, almost biting at his skin, but he just curled up a little tighter and watched as glaciers and icebergs started to become more and more frequent. And eventually, he could make out cliffs and forest and the unique architecture of Forsaken buildings until, at last, they pulled into the zeppelin dock of Vengeance Landing.  
There was an intimidating nature to the entire settlement, from the people to the very ground below him. As his feet met packed dirt, he couldn't help but notice the smell of pine trees and salt water occasionally bursting through the smell of decay and disease.

"It's unusual to see a Forsaken smiling."  
He turned to see a female orc standing not too far away, having just come out of a nearby building. Her black hair was tied back into two, almost comical-looking boar tails compared to her fierce features, and umber-colored eyes were staring at him through lowered lids. He blinked before realizing that he was indeed smiling, through the ever-so slight turn of his lips. "I suppose we don't have much to be happy about."  
She snorted. "You're telling me." Tight-fitting mail armor clinked almost musically as she shifted on her feet, adjusting the dangerous-looking mace attached to her hip. "There was an Alliance ambush a few days ago. A shame you didn't show up then, I heard it was brutal." She turned her head and let out a long, sharp whistle, reaching into her pack and holding out a piece of raw meat to a worg that came running. Climbing onto its back, she nodded to him and said, "_Aka'Magosh_."  
And with that, she disappeared up the path into the wilds.  
He watched her depart with an eyebrow raised. His first personal meeting with an orc hadn't been as violent as he'd been expecting. "Seems like the rumors that they're blood-thirsty savages isn't entirely right," he mused to himself, craning his neck to look into what he assumed was the town's inn. It was eerily quiet here, and it soon creeped into his mind that he was wasting time here. Shaking his head, he turned to a nearby guard and managed to find someone who rented a skeletal horse, decorated with spikes and drapes of green.

**{}**

He honestly didn't think he was going to find anything. According to a map he had bought, he was very close to an Alliance settlement called Fort Wildervar, and there had been no sign of the red-haired runemaster.  
At a crossroads, he pulled on the reins, bringing the skeletal horse below him to a stop with a sigh. "Do you hear anything, Lark?" He asked, patting the matted greenish-brown mane.  
The horse snorted, looking off into the woods to the right of their position. Glowing citrine-colored eyes followed, scanning through the underbrush and occasional layer of snow; some faint track in his mind remembering that horses often did that when they were looking for some kind of danger.  
But the woods were still. And that's how he knew something was wrong.  
There was no kind of sound, not even by the local wildlife. At some point, birds had stopped chirping and the crunching of worg paws on dead leaves and branches. Carefully dismounting, he drew his scimitar and stepped towards the edge of the road. "Hello?" He called out carefully, reaching back for his shield as an afterthought.  
Suddenly, something started to rustle, and he took a defensive position, ready to fight whatever decided to jump out at him.

"Thank the Light there's someone competent!" came a relieved, slightly unnerved voice, followed by the appearance of a pale, black-haired man. He was dressed in casual clothing, defining him as a civilian, and glasses reflected the sunlight, nearly hiding his bead-like eyes. "I think I'm in-" He stopped when he saw the Forsaken, his mouth frozen halfway open. "...trouble."  
The Deathstalker blinked, not moving from his stance. "...what are you doing out here?" he asked after a moment, straightening by a fraction.  
"Er, m-my group was a-attacked," the stranger stammered in response, lifting his hands slightly. "We all got separated...attacked. Or k-killed, I think." His Common was very fluent, the small but pointed shape of his ears suggesting that he was a half-elf. But of Alliance or Horde loyalty was indiscernible.  
"Killed? By what?" Deathstalker Nameless asked, his fingers locked around the hilt of his sword.  
"I-I don't know. She looked like an elf, but... she was just wrong." The commoner shuddered, crossing his arms in what he guessed was an attempt to keep warm. "I think she was one of those San'layn, or whatever they're called..."

Flash.  
He could feel himself still in Howling Fjord, still looking at this pathetic little half-elf, but at the same time, he could feel the crisp coldness of Icecrown, watching as a taller and darker version of a blood elf drained the blood from an Argent soldier.  
And, just as suddenly as it had come to him, the vision was gone, leaving him blinking and detached. "Hello?" The snapping of fingers brought his eyes back into focus, to the somewhat annoyed expression on the half-elf's face.  
"By the way you're talking to me, I'm guessing that you're a citizen of the Horde."  
Not faltering he said irritably, "Of course. If I wasn't, I wouldn't be talking to you."

"Oh shi-" The familiar exclamation made the Forsaken spin around just to catch a brief glimpse of red dodging behind a tree. So that human was here.  
"W-wait a second!" The commoner cried out as his companion abandoned him to quickly take chase.  
Stopping behind the tree that he had last seen the human behind, Deathstalker Nameless was surprised to see that there was nothing there. "Look, Mr. Dead Guy, I can't go with you!" The voice said from nearby, hitched with breathlessness and apology. "Tell your... leader, people, you found me dead or something!"  
He smirked dryly, quieting to peer around another tree. Sure enough, the runemaster was pressed against the bark, looking in the opposite direction. He slowly braced himself, and then jumped out to pin the redhead to the tree, pushing his blade up to the thin neck. "They would still want your body."  
The human let out a terrified squeak, blue eyes widening to an almost impossible size.

The rapid thudding and crunching of leaves and ground being crushed by feet came, followed by a "What the hell is going -" But before the half-elf could finish his sentence as he rounded to the other side of the runemaster, a dark flash flew down and blasted him to the ground.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Oh god, I finally give them names, _yessss_. It's so annoying to refer to these guys by nicknames or descriptors - how many times did I use "half elf" or "Deathstalker" or "human" in this chapter? So so annoying.  
/end rant, begin writings!/

* * *

**IV.**

The human cried out in surprise, trying to move under the Forsaken's sword. But the hand held firm, luminescent orange eyes watching in horror at the sight of the half elf commoner being pinned to the ground by the dark slender figure of a woman.  
Her skin was a lifeless deep purple, and she was clad in drastic robes of green and black. "Hello, twat," she purred viciously, digging her nails into his wrists as he wriggled and writhed underneath her. "I have to say, your comrades were quite refreshing. Will you disappoint?"

If his heart had been beating, the Forsaken was sure it would be pounding in his ears. Without thinking, he removed his sword from the runemaster's throat and threw his entire body weight at her, knocking her to the ground with a grunt.  
Now free, the runemaster quickly scrambled to pull out a long, cylindrical object from his pack, pulling off a piece of it. Quickly taking the newly revealed tip, he scribbled something onto his palm, but otherwise didn't move.

The female coughed, rolling onto her side before pushing herself up into a sitting position. "Never been pounced like _that_ before," she said, chuckling. Reflective eyes, as black as night, turned to look at the Deathstalker, who had rolled back onto his feet rather smoothly, her eyebrow quirking. "Well, well, well. That's a face I haven't seen in a long time."  
"You know her?" the human asked, watching the Forsaken shake his head silently. "Look, lady - by the Light." His face paled as the woman stood to her full height, brushing dirt from her robes. "You're... a darkfallen!"  
"San'layn," she corrected coolly, flipping her long black hair that was tinged purple in the sun. "You know your Scourge, human... by your smell, I'd almost think you were one." Chuckling again as the human turned almost ashen, she set her sights back onto the half elf, who was still lying on the ground in shock.  
"Uugh, you honestly have nothing better to do than stalk random people in the middle of Howling Fjord?" he complained, running a hand through his spiked black hair.  
"No. But this is the best feeding ground in Northrend," she replied, suddenly spinning and dropping down onto her hands to kick backwards at the Deathstalker. He took the hit, losing his balance just long enough for her to follow through by grabbing his arm and _pulling_. But whatever she planned was foiled when his arm simply snapped off, causing the both of them to fall backwards.  
"Whoa!" the runemaster yelped, jumping out of the way when the woman lurched forward again, grabbed the stunned Forsaken, and slammed him into the ground, tossing his detached arm to the side.

She straightened her posture as he lay there, vision swimming. "Forgive the brutality, dear." But her eyes widened and she let out a little cry when the half elf stood up, slid off his overcoat, and wrapped it around her throat, pulling her close to him. She struggled for a full few seconds before relaxing and sighing. "Honey?"  
The half elf's small eyes narrowed. "Yes?"  
"I'm dead. I don't need to breathe."

A beat of silence. "Oh."

While he was scrambling for something else to do to help, she swiftly drew her leg up and delivered a kick right between his legs. "The effort was cute, though!" While he cried out in pain and fell to his knees, she spun around and threw him into a nearby, crooked pine tree. Climbing to his hands, the Deathstalker actually winced at the loud 'crack!' of the tree as the half elf's body collided with it, and slid to the ground, unconscious.  
"Hey, wait!" The human yelled, holding out his hand with his palm out as she casually crossed over to the half elf and slung him over her shoulder; a black rune was clearly visible. "What are you doing?"  
"What I meant to do in the first place," she replied vaguely, baring her fangs.  
"W-wait! Can't we sort this out?" He looked around, trying to find anything he could barter with.  
She tsked. "Sorry, dear. But you see -" The darkfallen grinned. "I'm starving. And neither or you are exactly appetizing, so I'm just going to settle with this pathetic little waste of flesh." And with that, she seemed to simply vanish in a blur of green and purple.  
"Dammit!" The human swore, shaking his hand and grabbing the Forsaken by the (still-connected) arm. "Come on! We need to stop her!" As they ran past, he ducked down to grab the discarded arm lying in some underbrush.

Everything flew by, greens and browns mixing until the Deathstalker's head spun. "What's going on?"  
"San'layn! They feed off of blood! If we don't get to her, she'll kill that guy!" Tucking the arm under his own, he reached into his bag, never slowing as he pulled out a hammer. Holding it out in front of him, he slowly panned it from side to side as they came to a dirt path that forked in two directions. "Come on, come on, come on," he muttered under his breath, a relieved smile coming to his face briefly as a rune carved into the metal started to glow. "This way!"  
Not that the Forsaken had any choice but to follow. Even if he pulled away, the human still had his other arm.

They stopped suddenly, the human nearly stumbling and falling, when they reached a clearing.  
And in the middle was the half elf, unconscious and lying in an unnaturally small pool of blood. "Oh no." Rushing forward, having let go of his companion, he knelt next to the body and bent down. As the Forsaken approached, he realized that he was searching for something. And sure enough, the runemaster pushed the pale face over so that the two bite marks in the half elf's neck were clearly visible. "Shit." Turning to look at the Deathstalker, his eyes were wide and distraught as he said, "Look out. Just 'cos you don't see her doesn't mean she's not around."

And in truly ironic timing, he was tackled by the San'layn, his hammer flying from his hands and onto the ground right in front of the Deathstalker's feet.  
"You are human. Clearly alive," she hissed, eyes dull in the shadow of the trees surrounding them and the incoming nightfall. "So tell me. Why do you smell like a half-rotted ghoul?"  
Struggling under her iron grip, his eyes briefly flickered over her shoulder, where the Deathstalker was standing ready to strike at her. "Kind of a bad time to be insulting my personal hygiene, don't you think?"  
Her hand struck his cheek with a sickening sound. "Shut up. You're not just a pathetic little mage, are you?"

She never got her answer. At that moment, the Deathstalker swung down the hammer, lodging the prying end right into her shoulder. She shrieked, a flailing arm hitting him and knocking him onto the ground a few feet away. The runemaster took the advantage to grab at the hammer with one hand while pushing his other against her chest.  
The rune on the hammer glowed, and she shrieked again, her hand meeting his cheek forcefully in retaliation. The impact forced him to pull the hammer from her shoulder, and before they knew it, she was gone.

And all was quiet.

Coughing, the runemaster sat up, cradling his nose as blood flowed from it. "You alright?" he asked the Deathstalker, who gave a dazed nod. Blue eyes closed, then flew open once again to examine the hammer. "Wait. _Wait_!" Scrambling to his feet, he raced back to the still unconscious half elf. "Please please _please_ be enough!" he muttered as he wiped some of the dark violet blood from the hammer and, without a second thought, stuck his fingers into the half elf's mouth.  
"What are you doing?" The Deathstalker asked, picking up his arm from where it had been discarded.  
"I heard this rumor... Darkfallen blood brings victims back to life. In a sense." Withdrawing his hand, he proceeded to run it through his hair and take some deep, shaking breaths. "Heh. How do I always mess things up?"  
The Forsaken said nothing; what _could_ he say? He barely knew this human - and that's what he was. A human he was supposed to apprehend. But as easy as it could have been at that moment to put his sword to his back and drag him back to Tirisfal Glades, his hand was limp at his side, even when he repeatedly told himself to do what he came to do.

His thoughts were interrupted as a pale fist reached up to punch the human, who had leaned over to check if anything had changed, in the face.

He blinked in surprise as the redhead fell backwards from the blow before scrambling to his feet and screaming, "Yes! Yes! It worked!"  
With a groan, the half elf sat up, holding his head. His skin had taken on a deathly white shade, almost lightly tinged with purple, and when he opened his mouth to speak, the Deathstalker could see that his left canine tooth was much more sharp than it had been earlier: a fang. "What the hell just happened? I feel like I just got run over by a Kodo..." His small eyes looked over to the runemaster, narrowing. "And, somehow, that it's _your_ fault."  
Laughing nervously, the redhead rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeaaaahh, it kinda is. But that doesn't matter right now, you're okay!" That brilliant, guard-dropping grin never left his face as he outstretched a hand to help the half elf up onto his feet. "Also, I should tell you this now, but you maaaay or may not be a darkfallen now."  
There was a pause, the half elf staring at him before shrilly shrieking, "_What_?"

**{}**

They went back to the crossroads where they'd met as a group, with the half elf moaning, "No no no, this can _not_ be happening." Surprisingly, Lark was right where the Deathstalker had left it, nickering quietly and moving towards the group. "And now there's a dead horse, how _wonderful_..."  
"We should probably go find some help," the runemaster said above the not-so subtle complaining.  
"Probably," the Forsaken agreed, rubbing the bridge of Lark's deteriorating nose with a vague smile.  
The half elf stopped complaining long enough to ask, "Where's the nearest town where none of us will be flayed alive, though?"  
"Hmm... oh!" Holding up one finger, the human reached into his bag and pulled out a wrinkled map. "Uh... we're right next to Valgarde. That's an Aliance outpost. Uh... what's your name?" he asked, looking up at the half elf.  
"Why does it matter?"  
"Because it might be the key between you getting help and you being strung like a trophy."

The half elf stared defiantly for a good few seconds before scoffing and crossing his arms. "Conrad."  
The human quirked an eyebrow. "_Conrad_? That's not a very elfy name."  
"Conrad, yes. My father named me."  
"Oh. Well, since we're getting all acquainted and stuff, my name's Hanna. Hanna Falk Cross." With a grin, the redhead stuffed the map back into his bag.  
"...Hanna isn't a boy's name."  
"Well it is now okay." Hanna turned to the Deathstalker. "And... wait, you don't remember your name. Uh... oh!" He snapped his fingers. "How about I just call you whatever until something clicks?"  
"I'd prefer you didn't call me anything," the Forsaken replied coolly, not believing how friendly he was being towards a man sent to condemn him to death - or worse.  
"Oh, come on. You could've taken me in three times already, and you haven't."

Damn it. He had a point.

"Alright, so with a name like Conrad, people will probably think you're an Alliance halfer. And they know me, so we're all good!" Hanna said, clapping his hands together.  
"Uh, what about him?" Conrad asked, not bothering to hide his annoyance as he nodded to the Deathstalker. "It's hard to hide that kind of rot."  
"Oh. Right. Erm..." Turning to examine the Forsaken, the redhead made some speculating noises before perking. "Glamour! I can give you something -" He pulled out a pad of parchment and that cylindrical object from his bag. "To make you look human."  
"What is that?"  
He looked up, pushing his glasses back up his nose. "What's what?"  
"That." The Deathstalker gestured to the black _thing_.  
"...really? It's a marker. Kind of a more portable quill. Neat, huh?" Hanna uncapped the marker and scribbled a runic symbol onto a piece of parchment, ripping it away and handing it to the Deathstalker. "So, to activate that, all you have to do is press it against your skin. And it's pretty strong, so no one should really be able to tell unless they've got a good sense of smell."  
There was a pause before long, bony fingers reached out to take the parchment.  
"Okay! Let's do this!"

**{}**

Right outside of Valgarde guardsmen vision, Hanna sewed the Deathstalker's arm back on, apologizing relentlessly as he did. And then, the Forsaken hesitantly put the rune against the back of his hand. Nothing noticeable happened at first, but then he noticed that the green tinge of his skin was fading to a light, regular flesh tone. Both Conrad and Hanna's jaws dropped when they saw what the rune had done to him. "Whoa."  
Once they got into the town with no complications, he took a moment to look at himself. The alive, scruffy face looking back at him was unfamiliar, even though it was his own; the white tufts of hair by his temples were gone, the almost sickening skeletal features of his face now rounded out to give the form of a regular man in his late twenties.

"Kinda surreal, huh Salix?"  
It took him a moment to realize that Hanna was speaking to him. Looking up, he quirked an eyebrow. "Well, I have to call you _something_," the redhead explained, rolling his eyes with a goofy little smile. "You're not too bad on the eyes."

Opening his mouth to respond, he checked himself when he realized that there was a ticking sound coming to his right, soon accompanied by someone clearing their throat. Turning, he was met with an unfamiliar, tired-looking face, attached to a slim figure that was almost feminine. Incredibly light green eyes peeked out over half-moon glasses that sat low on his somewhat-pointed nose. His hair was black, marked with light blond chunks at the base of his neck, temples, and the peak of his hairline. "Hello..." The man paused, as though he wanted to add something, but quickly moved on. "Are you awaiting the boat to Stormwind?"  
"There's a boat to Stormwind coming?" Hanna exclaimed, eyes widening excitedly.  
"Indeed. First one of the month. Quite a few people are happy about it."  
"I'm not surprised, boats to Stormwind never come through to Valgarde - well, not usually, anyway." The redhead looked to Salix, beaming. "You'll get to see Stormwind for the first time!" Pausing, and with a look to the stranger, he quickly added, "Since we got here."  
The man chuckled, adjusting his arm spats. "It should be here within the hour... oh, where are my manners? My name is Plesd-" He cut himself off again, putting a hand to his chest and bowing slightly as he introduced himself.  
"Plesd...?" Salix repeated, citrine-colored eyes narrowing slightly at the nervous shuffle of the man's feet.  
"Er... just Ples." He coughed in to a fist, the ticking skipping over in a not-so subtle way. "Well, I'm afraid I must be off. May we meet again, Hanna." And with that, he turned and headed into the inn.

Hanna blinked, staring off towards the direction Ples had left in. "...how'd he know my name?"


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Not much happens in this chapter, except for the beginning of Hanna and {...}'s epic bromance, some Conrad torture, and enigmaticshadowfigure!Ples.  
Also, drinking laws in Azeroth, lol?

* * *

**V.**

They had hidden Lark in a dense cluster of trees, so Hanna went back out to glamour it and bring it into Valgarde. With its disguise, it took the appearance of a Friesian stallion, completely black, but with a tinge of green in its mane. The redhead grinned, patting its crest. "You know, I was thinking of saving up and getting one of these for my first horse. But I was pretty broke and couldn't wait, so I got Rosaline instead." Slowly, the smile faded, replaced with worry. "I hope she's okay."  
The Deathstalker touched Lark's mane, surprised at how real it felt. "She seemed smart enough. I'm sure she got somewhere safe." The gesture was surprising for him, to be comforting.  
But it seemed to help, since Hanna's eyes brightened slightly and he smiled gratefully. "Yeah. If I wasn't sure you wouldn't try to take me in, I'd ask if you wouldn't mind helping me look for her, Danikar. Anyway, you wanna go check on Conrad? He went into the inn."

**{}**

Conrad was sitting right in view from the entrance, a letter in progress on the scratched and worn table before him. Danikar sat across from him, watching the ink scratch into the paper before he asked, "What are you doing?"  
"I left my horse at Camp Winterhoof," he said, irritation still in his voice. "I'm sending for someone to guide her back to my apartment in Dalaran."  
"Dalaran?" The name rang familiar, but he wasn't sure how. No one had bothered to ever brief him on the different areas of Northrend.  
"Yes." After a pause, the half elf looked up, quirking an eyebrow. "You have no idea where that is, do you?"

The silence between them answered the question.

"You've _got_ to be kidding - it's the most powerful city in Northrend! Mages go there for their training. It used to be near the kingdom of Lordaeron, but it was practically destroyed in the Third War," Conrad said, unconsciously twirling the quill in his hand. "But they managed to move it out into Crystalsong Forest. A beautiful place, really."  
The Deathstalker remained quiet as the half elf stared off into the distance before shaking his head and returning to his letter. His lack of memories were starting to become a bit frustrating. "Okay! Lark's in the stables," Hanna's voice chirped as the runemaster bounded inside, grabbing a chair from an empty table and sitting backwards in it. "All we have to do is wait for the boat!"  
Before either of them could respond to the sudden injection of peppiness to their table, a barmaid came by and set a small mug of ale on the table next to Conrad's arm. "Here you go," she said, smiling warmly before whisking away to the bar.  
Hanna gasped lightly. "Are you going to drink that? I mean, _can_ you?" Even before the question was answered, he was reaching towards it, elbows on the table.  
Conrad thought for a moment, then sighed. "No, go ahead. I ordered it, thinking that it was weird to - hey, wait a minute!" He snapped his head up to stare at Hanna, who was holding up the mug in preparation to drink from it. "Are you even old enough?"

Slowly, Hanna lowered the mug, an almost comically evil expression coming over his face. "...I'm twenty four," he said, eyes narrowing.

Danikar was stunned. This frail thing that looked at least sixteen was an _adult_? Conrad voiced his thoughts by quirking an eyebrow and asking, "Aaaare you? Really?"  
Hanna's eyes narrowed further, the threat of death practically emanating from his eyes. The Deathstalker was afraid he would have to pull them apart for the moment before Hanna laughed and took a drink. "Okay, we just met, so you get off the hook this time! Ooh, this is good."  
By the time the boat arrived, Hanna was halfway through a second mug, and they practically had to drag him out of the inn.

As the boat departed, Danikar - who had been re-named Ellas - looked upon Valgarde again, catching a shadowed figure standing in an upstairs room of the inn. The figure met his eyes and, after setting a glass down, did what he recognized as the Forsaken salute. But before the Deathstalker could return the gesture, or even make sense of it, they were out in open water.

**{}**

Conrad sat against the balcony of the boat, groaning. Apparently, he was seasick, if the way he often shot up like an arrow and doubled over, heaving into the water was any indication. Hanna winced and took the Deathstalker's arm, leading him into the cabin. "I'm going to see if I can stir up some kind of elixir," he said as he pulled a mortar and pestle from his bag - how much stuff did that boy have in there? "I'm not sure it'll work on him, but it's worth a shot." Reaching for a pouch on his belt, he talked as he worked, picking out various dried herbs and crushing them. "You know, Zann, we're going to have to find you new clothes when we get to Stormwind. Someone might recognize that armor."  
Zann looked down at his scale ensemble, colored a variety of blues and purples and whites. "That would probably be smart," he agreed, pulling out his scimitar to clean with a rag he asked for from one of the crew.  
"We're mainly just going to stock up, if you want to go back to Tirisfal."

The notion kind of surprised him. But it wasn't as surprising as when he heard himself say, "No."

Hanna looked up, eyes wide in surprise, pushing his glasses back up his nose with his elbow while his hands were occupied. "Really?"  
"I was supposed to go back with you. If I don't have you..." The Deathstalker trailed off, sheathing his scimitar with ease. "Then who knows what would happen?"  
"True." The runemaster took a vial of liquid and uncorked it, carefully pouring some into the fine powder he'd made of the herbs. The mixture smoldered, then burst into flames. It only lasted a second, but everyone nearby screamed and shouted in shock. "Sorry!" He said, turning and holding his hands up. "Alchemy, you know."

The potion worked, surprisingly; within a minute, Conrad had taken to standing up and walking around. "How much longer do you think it will be?" he asked, removing his glasses to clean dirt from them.  
"We should probably be there by sunrise," Hanna said, looking up at the moonless sky from his position on the deck, against the wall. Stars twinkled, reflecting in his glasses and eyes. "Sorry, Conrad."  
Zann took a seat next to the runemaster, having removed most of his armor and set it next to a hammock in the cabin. He knew he didn't need to sleep, but it would be best to at least feign it. "Sounds like it'll be a long night."

Hanna fell asleep an hour into the journey, his head slowly gravitating sideways until it was resting against the Deathstalker's shoulder. Instead of pushing him away, however, he stayed still, watching the sails ripple in the wind and listening to the sloshing and splashing of water as they moved. The runemaster's body was small, and smelled of sweat and magic and herbs, but it was also warm. The fact that he could actually discern this was strange in itself, since heat and cold were just dulled senses these days. But Hanna was that cozy sort of warm, like curling up next to a fireplace on a winter night.  
He blinked at the skyline, noticing that it was suddenly becoming lighter. Heaving a sigh, he looked up to a crew member and asked, "Any word on how much longer it will be?"  
"We should be there within the hour," she replied, adjusting the rope wrapped around her shoulder as she passed without stopping. "They're serving some food in a few minutes." She finally stopped to look at them, eyebrow quirking. "Did you two sleep out here?"  
He gave a one-sided shrug while adjusting to nudge Hanna softly, watching the crew woman mutter to herself and continue on her journey. The redhead groaned quietly, eyes opening just slightly. "Hmmuwha?"  
"We're arriving soon. And they're serving food."  
Hanna made a non-committed noise, but when the meaning of the words sunk in, he practically jumped to his feet.

**{}**

While Hanna ungracefully stuffed his face in the cabin, the Deathstalker watched as the glorious white stones of Stormwind's buildings came into view. Conrad crossed his arms, shivering in the chill of the sea winds, but still whistled at the sight. "I didn't think that it would look so clean."  
"Nothing compared to Dalaran, though?"  
Conrad snorted. "Of course it isn't."

Hanna stumbled out of the cabin as the ship slowed to a stop. "Wirr hirr!" he exclaimed through a mouthful of dried meat. Swallowing, his eyes glinted behind his glasses as he grinned and said, "Alright, so we should probably rent out a room, since we're probably gonna stay for the night, but after that, we're gonna get you some new armor, Rane. Connie -" The half elf's eye twitched at the nickname. "I'll give you a little tour, but will you be alright running around by yourself?"  
The half elf sighed, rolling a shoulder. "Is everything outside? I have a _massive_ headache."  
"Yeah, that's the sunlight. It irritates da- er, it's irritating," Hanna corrected himself as a crew member passed.  
"Oh. Wonderful." Conrad adjusted his overcoat, ran a hand through his hair, and grudgingly followed the little train of the most unlikely people to ever be in a group together.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** LOOOOOOOOOOL I'm a 'tard. I _just _realized I hadn't posted up this chapter on here. In other news, hey, look guys! Conrad isn't completely worthless in this version! And Toni's not very good at stalking.

* * *

**VI.**

He had to admit: Stormwind was beautiful, in its own right. The white bricks of the buildings were in almost-pristine condition, the water in the canals almost the same color as Hanna's eyes, the smell of the markets heavy in the air. It was definitely a change to the quiet darkness of Tirisfal Glades.

Hanna was practically skipping on the cobblestone, tripping over his rather large feet once or twice but always regaining his balance. "Okay, Park's that way, Cathedral's that way..." He pointed out everything like he knew it off of the back of his hand. Which he probably did.  
They made their way across bridges and through archways, with Hanna waving and joking with passerby that recognized him. The Deathstalker was a bit anxious, hoping that no one could tell he didn't belong here, but was also surprised at how well-known the runemaster was.

An older woman stopped them just outside of the Trade District with a smile, exclaiming, "Hanna! I was starting to worry, I haven't seen you in quite a few days. You haven't been getting in trouble, I hope?"  
Hanna chuckled sheepishly, removing his glasses to wipe them with his sleeve. "Nothing that you aren't used to hearing about, Emma."  
"Who are your friends here?" She looked over the two men following, eyes lingering over the Deathstalker. He stiffened slightly, but bowed his head.  
"Uh, just some friends I met. They've been traveling for a while, so I'm just showing them Stormwind 'cause they haven't seen it in a while," Hanna said, waving a hand. Conrad blinked, obviously surprised by the casual presentation of the lie. "Anyways, we should probably get going. Lemme know if you need help with anything."

"That was amazing," the Deathstalker muttered as they made their way through the crowds and vendors to a worn sign that read 'The Gilded Rose'.  
"Oh? Yeah, I'm used to lying about things," the redhead said distractedly, reaching into his pocket for a money pouch. "It makes it easier to get around." They stopped just short of the entrance, pressing against the nearest wall to keep from blocking the streets. "Okay, so, Connie, we're sleeping here -"  
"Stop. Calling. Me. Connie," Conrad growled, eyebrow twitching.  
"Oh, sorry. But, uh, you are now free to roam about the city. But try to stay in the shade if you can help it." Hanna waved a hand, as if to present the entirety of the city to the half-elf. Conrad looked around, eyes narrowed in both pain and wariness, but he didn't actually move for another few seconds. When he did, he shoved his hands into his pockets and, sticking to shadows, made his way down the street and through the tunnel to the Mage Quarter.

Hanna quietly went into the inn to secure a room, leaving the Deathstalker to his own devices. Surreptitiously, he stuck another disguising rune on himself, having noticed the skin on his hands starting to turn almost sickly in color. "Okay, I've could only afford two rooms for two nights. We'll figure out who's where later. But for now, where do ya wanna go, Rhonen?"

Rhonen's eyes slid across the Trade District, watching children play in the fountain in front of the bank and a Draenei Paladin casually brush past in full armor that shined so bright, it hurt his eyes. "What's on the other side of this district?" he asked, running a hand through his hair and feeling the unnatural, healthy softness of it.  
"Oh, Old Town. We could check out the Pig, I'm sure we could hear somethin' about... something. Hey, you wanna get out of that armor? It'll make you look less suspicious. The guards let you keep your weapons, though, just in case." Hanna spoke at a mile a minute, grabbing Rhonen's arm and gently pulling him towards the stairs into the Gilded Rose.  
"H-huh? Oh, uh... sure." Now that he thought about it, it was a good idea. The armor was starting to get a little tiresome.  
"It'll be easier to get you fitted for more stuff, too," Hanna continued as he waved to the innkeeper and led the Deathstalker up to the room he had rented for them.

It was small, containing two beds big enough for one person pushed against the wall with a large window. Between them was a worn end table, containing an unlit lamp. Another table was in the corner, with one of the comfortable-looking wooden chairs pulled out to hold Hanna's worn and patched bags. The runemaster waited patiently outside while the Deathstalker removed his armor, pausing to take in how strange it felt to be without it before adjusting his undershirt and carefully placing the scale plate outfit on the table.

"Alright, Zathoros. I'm thinking we could head to Old Town to get your armor. That way, we can check out the Pig and Whistle, see if there are any rumors going around," said the redhead as soon as his companion emerged into the hall.  
"Sound good," Zathoros said warily.

Hearing the tone of his voice, Hanna laughed and led the way down the stairs. "I'll point everything out, first, 'cause we're probably gonna come back here soon and I don't want you getting lost in case the disguise runs out." As Hanna happily babbled, Zathoros was amazed at how casual Hanna made this all out to be. He talked like the man following him hadn't been taking him to be condemned to death - or a fate worse - just a day earlier, and like he hadn't turned an innocent citizen into a vampiric creature, forced to hide in the shadows.  
The boy was something else, he knew. But even so, he followed, a gentle smile coming over his lips as Hanna raced to the side of the bridge to gawk at a hunter's crocolisk as it glided through the water beneath them.

He turned to look towards Old Town, only to nearly knock a young woman over. She gave a little 'eek!' of surprise as she stumbled, but he managed to reach out and catch her by a silk-sleeved arm before she fell. "Are you alright?" he asked automatically, releasing her when she stood up straight.  
"Yeah, I'm just..." She paused in the midst of turning to smile at him, her eyes immediately darkening as she inhaled. "A klutz," she finished, a black eyebrow furrowing.  
She was an exotic-looking woman, with dark skin and even darker eyes, and black hair that was streaked with blue. To make her stand out even more, she had a blue mohawk of sorts. Even if she hadn't been staring him down, he still would have been taken aback by her appearance. "Is... something wrong?" he inquired, tilting his head slightly.  
She continued to stare at him through narrow, slanted eyes before saying, "No. Not with me, anyway." And with that, she turned and walked away, her ponytail swinging in the breeze and with the motion of her walking.  
Hanna bounced back over to his companion, staring after her with sparkles in his eyes. "Who was that, Felian?"

It was at this point that Felian began to realize that women were Hanna's weak point. "I don't know."  
The redhead pondered for a moment before shaking his head. "Oh well. Like the gnomes say, daylight's burning!"

Hanna had very little money, but managed to scrounge up enough money to pay for a set of slightly-used platemail armor; 'slightly used' meaning that there was a spot of rust just off to the side of the stomach and many marks of fixed dents. "Don't worry about it, Kal, I'll just eat light tonight," he said when the Deathstalker tried to protest against buying the whole set. Of course, that did very little to shake away the argument, but Hanna simply changed the subject and led Kal to the Pig and Whistle.

Compared to the Gallows' End Tavern, the Pig and Whistle was like the scene of an accident. Loud chatter and laughter echoed through the cramped space, the floors crammed with bodies. The smell of eggs, meat, and mead filled the air - "Breakfast!" Hanna chirped as his small figure easily slipped into gaps and took a seat at the main table.  
Kal followed uneasily, well aware that some of the women were staring at him. He managed to take a seat right next to Hanna, scooting even closer when a patron nearly spilled the contents of their stein onto him. "Is it always this lively?"  
"Actually, no. But everyone in Stormwind is kinda living it up while they can. You hungry?" After Kal shook his head, Hanna laughed. "Of course not. Forgot for a second. I'm gonna get something, okay?"  
While the redhead was preoccupied with talking to the barmaid, the Deathstalker took the opportunity to examine the crowd. Some people were drunk, but most just seemed to be naturally happy, chatting and gossiping. It was all cozy in its own way, and tugged at something in his brain... was he trying to remember something?  
It was the smells, he realized: soups, meat roasting over a fire... it all brought memories gently rising up like bubbles to the surface of water, popping just when he started to see blurs of colors that didn't quite belong.

An eerie feeling came over him, and he came out of his daze to look over at the left-side entrance of the tavern. And there, peeking out just enough to see and be seen, was the woman from the bridge. She ducked out of sight once their eyes met, but the idea that she was following them was unnerving. "Hanna."  
The redhead looked up, mouth full of eggs. "Hmmn?"  
"That girl's following us."  
Blue eyes squinted, the runemaster arching his back to get a better look. "Huh. Wonder why? maybe she wants to hire me - I run a little investigation thing," he said, straightening back up in his seat and looking at the now-empty plate. "It's kinda little-known, but I spend a lot of free time handing out cards and stuff. Just in case, y'know?"  
Not really knowing, the Deathstalker nodded anyway. "Are you done?"

Hanna sighed, pushing away the plate and tossing some coin onto it. "Yeah. S'go see if we can find Connie - Conrad," he corrected himself, grinning.

**{}**

Conrad shifted nervously on the floor. "Just relax," the mage trainer cooed soothingly, her smile one of charm and confidence.  
Just like the smile of his mother.  
He pushed the thought out of his mind and cleared his throat. "S-sorry."  
"It's alright. This is the first time you've been tested?" she asked conversationally, lighting incense around them. The gentle scents of herbs soon filled the air.  
"N-no. Second. But the first was..." The half-elf fought to find a way to describe it. Incomplete? Inconclusive? He liked the sound of that last one, so that's what he used. "He didn't really tell me anything except that I had potential."  
She looked pleased by this, for some reason. "Well, that's always good. I'm just gonna check you, okay?"

After a second's hesitation, Conrad nodded, removing his glasses to fold and place on the floor beside him.

Her hands were soft, strange against the premature worry-lines marking his face. There was a pleasant buzzing in his head, and everything took on a blue hue as she felt for magic-carrying currents within him.  
It all took just a few minutes, and she pulled away with a slightly puzzled expression. "Huh. That's odd. You have just enough capacity for conjuring... and maybe something else. But if you're destined to be a mage, or magic-wielder of any kind... it's not showing yet."

He blinked, unconsciously rubbing his neck. "Oh. Really? I... suppose that's better than nothing." He chuckled, the sound unconvincing in his ears. But the trainer smiled, a blond version of his mother. "Thank you for your time."  
Conrad bowed his head, put on his glasses, and left the Mage Tower feeling oddly at ease. He wasn't just average, was he? Maybe that's why... His mood soured almost immediately once again, and he touched the scarred impressions on his neck.

"There you are!"

He yelped and spun around to see Hanna running towards him. "Light-damn it, you scared me!" the half-elf yelled, automatically stepping into deeper shadows.  
"Sorry! Look, I was thinking that maybe we should figure out where to go from here." Hanna stopped, canting his head with an expression of intrigue. "Whatcha doing out here?"  
Conrad sighed, looking to the human-guised Forsaken with a kind of pleading. When all he received was a half-hearted shrug, he sighed. "Well, before you came waltzing into my life... I was awaiting the possibility of mage training. I figured since I was here, I'd just finish what I started before."  
"Oh, cool," Hanna said enthusiastically, wringing his hands. "What'd they say?"  
Conrad's eyebrows furrowed slightly, then relaxed; the Deathstalker somehow knew that he was both excited and disappointed. "Conjuring."  
There was a pause. "That's it?"  
"And _maybe_ something else."

"Oh. Well, at least you aren't doomed to wave a stick in the face of danger anymore!"

As the redhead naturally started to lead the way towards the Trade District, the half-elf caught a glimpse of black and blue hair flicking in the breeze and disappearing behind a tree.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** So here's chapter seven. There's really not much I can say about it, except that it's safe for me to state the obvious: Toni does not, and probably will not ever really, like {...}.

* * *

**VII.**

Night had fallen on Stormwind, but Conrad was still quite awake. In fact, if there had been any point where he had felt tired, it was when he was exploring the city upon first arriving. "I hate being nocturnal," he announced to his fellow undead companion, who was cleaning his scimitar in an admittedly bored fashion.  
"Forsaken don't sleep at all, usually," he replied, eyes drifting over to the sleeping figure of Hanna. The redhead was on his side, facing the wall and snoring lightly. He took solace in this noise; under the blankets, it was nearly impossible to tell whether or not the runemaster was even breathing.  
Conrad shuddered, adjusting his night shirt. "Ugh. I don't even know what I'd do if I never had to sleep."  
"It's actually a bit of a blessing; more time to keep guard." Dropping the rag on the bed next to him, he held his scimitar out and examined it absently. This was about the third time he'd done this, but it was an easy way to keep himself busy. "Personally, though, I go for walks."

There was a pause before Conrad coughed and, stammering, threw out a suggestion: "Come with me? I don't particularly trust going out alone."  
Glowing citrine eyes looked up, unblinking as he thought. "Alright."

Surprisingly, there was only one difference between Stormwind at night, and Stormwind in the morning: the crowd. Where he had seen children playing before, there was a group of veteran soldiers reminiscing about war; in the shadows, a Kaldorei woman shimmered out of existence - Shadowmelding, he recalled; a gnome was leading a dwarf as they carried a fairly large contraption, barking orders like he was a drill sergeant.  
Conrad whistled to himself, wrapping his jacket tighter around himself. "It's strange to be this close to the Alliance."  
The Deathstalker nodded; it definitely felt more like a dream than reality, to be sharing a cobblestone bridge with slender Draenei woman that smiled at him as she passed. "Indeed. I'm sure that most others would crave this opportunity."  
The half-elf quirked an eyebrow. "You don't?"

They were mostly just wandering aimlessly, but he vaguely noticed that their wandering was leading them to the docks. "Not really, no. I don't like being this far behind enemy lines. This isn't what I'm here for." As he talked, he reached into his side pack for one of the spare disguise runes Hanna had given him and pressed it onto the back of his hand. He couldn't feel or see too many changes yet, but he imagined the previous one was about to expire, and it was better to be safe than sorry.  
"Why are you after him, anyway?"  
"He invaded Forsaken territory and injured military officials."

Conrad blinked. "That actually hurt people?"  
"He's stronger than you think." Part of him wanted to add, 'than anyone thought', but he just shook his head and started to descend the stone staircases that lead to a platform with a giant lion statue.  
"I suppose, if he could fight off a San'layn." A pause. "I don't think I'll ever get used to this."  
"It'll get easier, once -" The Deathstalker started to reply, but stopped when he saw someone else standing on the platform, positioned just opposite of them. The blue mohawk that he could have recognized from anywhere took on an almost green sheen from the torches lining the walls.

"Who do you think you are? Both of you."

Conrad's eyes widened slightly, his hand automatically going up to cover the bite marks on his neck. "Wh-what?"  
"The disguise is good. But you need some work on the smell." The woman took a step forward, her ponytail floating just lightly in the breeze. "Ichor and dust sticks right out to a good nose."  
Narrowing his eyes, he took a moment to take in his surroundings, and the best places to go if a fight was to occur. "I have no qualms with you."

"I do with you," she sneered, clenching a fist. "Are you aiming for a cheap shot again? You Forsaken really don't like to play fair, do you?"  
This caught him off-guard. "What are you talking about?"  
"You did the exact same thing to Gilneas."

At the Deathstalker's side, Conrad's eyes widened in realization. "You're a Gilnean! What's a Gilnean doing outside of the wall?"  
She narrowed her slanted eyes, but did not answer. After a minute, the Deathstalker finally uttered: "I have no idea what you're talking about."  
"Well, maybe it wasn't _you_, exactly, but it was your people." She took another step forward, and it was at this point that he realized that she had changed clothing since they had last met. She was now clad in tight-fitting leather; a top that had no neckline, but was instead supported by arm wraps, and pants that tightly hugged the middle of her lower legs, where they disappeared into heeled boots.  
"Then take it up with my people." He made no motion to reach for his scimitar, knowing that if he did, it would more than likely just provoke her further. Something about the way she walked was almost predatory, and part of him just knew that she could seriously injure them if she wanted to.

When she casually started to twirl her hand, electricity starting to gather into a ball in her palm as she opened her mouth to respond, something surprising happened: Conrad moved in front of him, shaking but firm. The half-elf must have known that he wasn't too threatening, with his somewhat prissy appearance and lack of a second fang, since he was quite surprised when the woman shook away the spell she had been casting. "Maybe I'll leave you be, if you answer one thing."  
Conrad turned to look at the Deathstalker, who shrugged casually. "What?"  
"Why are you here?"  
"Good question!" Conrad responded almost immediately, tossing his hands up.  
To clarify, the Forsaken stepped forward, his eyes calmly locked on her dark ones. "We are both in the company of a Mr. Hanna Cross. We are only here temporarily, but our destination and purpose are unknown."

She considered this, then relaxed. "Cross? That investigator? I think I've seen his card floating around. Not really the one thing Azeroth needs at the moment."  
"The _last_ thing it needs!" Conrad said. "Pardon my frankness, but he's not very good. He got me turned into... this." He held his neck once again.  
"Out of good intention," his companion reminded gently, daring to look backwards. "If it weren't for him, you'd be dead. Permanently."

The woman looked between them, obviously perplexed, but just sighed. "I'm sure it's a long story. But you've piqued my interest." She bowed her head in a strange bow that neither of them had ever seen before, hair falling over her shoulder. "My name is Toni Ipres. I'm an ambassador of the Alliance, sent from Gilneas." Straightening once again, she cocked a hip and ran a hand through her mohawk. "I'm interested in speaking to this... Mr. Cross."  
Conrad blinked in disbelief. "Seriously?"  
"Yes. It's not anything that needs to be 'investigated', really, but I might have a job for him... and you." Toni Ipres smiled in a suddenly gentle way, although there was still plent of danger aimed at the disguised Forsaken.

**{}**

The walk back was awkward. The Deathstalker led the way, with Toni and Conrad trailing behind him with a gap between them. Conrad moved away if Toni got too close, mostly by accident, and there was no conversation on the entirety of the trip to the Gilded Rose.  
Toni and Conrad stayed behind in the main room, with Toni curling up in front of the fire, while the Deathstalker went to the room he shared with Hanna. Common courtesy told him to knock before entering, but all he was met with was the curled up figure of Hanna's body as he slept. Again, he almost thought that Hanna wasn't breathing, being buried under a pile of blankets, but when he crossed over and gently shook him by the shoulder, he was relieved to see the redhead roll over, not opening his eyes as he muttered, "Two more minutes, mummy..."  
"Hanna."

One blue eye opened, practically reflecting the little moonlight coming in through the window. "Mmuh...? Oh... Ostric...?"  
A small smile involuntarily came over Ostric's face. "Sorry to wake you up... but we might have a client."  
"Client?" Hanna sat up, rubbing his eyes and reaching for his glasses on the nightstand. "Seriously? Who is it?"  
"That woman from the bridge. She's a Gilnean ambassador, but she won't tell us what she needs us for." Ostric backed up as Hanna tossed the blankets off of him and stood up, his movements groggy but becoming quicker with excitement. His arms were bare, revealing intricate runes wrapping around his biceps and above the left side of his collar bone. There was also the glint of something that looked metal beneath his loose night shirt, but before Ostric could question it, Hanna was pulling on a jacket and heading for the door.

Toni and Conrad were right where the Deathstalker had left them, but only Toni stood up when they entered the room. Conrad's small eyes were focused on the dwindling fire, which was going neglected as the innkeeper had retired for the night. "Mr. Cross?" she said lightly, taking in his disheveled appearance.  
"Y-yeah," Hanna replied, grinning sheepishly and running a hand through his messy, curly hair. "I, uh, you wanted me, Miss...?"  
"Ipres," she finished, nodding. "I'm sorry to have you woken up, but I figured it'd be better to get this over with."  
"No, yeah, I understand completely." Straightening his back, he gestured to the circle of five chairs just off to the side of the fireplace. "Wanna sit?"

"I'm on a mission of sorts," Toni began as the four of them took a seat. Hanna turned his chair backwards, propping his chin on his arms as they rested on the back of the chair; Ostric found this odd, but remained quiet. "I'm supposed to visit each main Alliance city and spend a few days there. I've been to everywhere except Darnassus, but... I also need to go out and look for something in the wilds on Teldrassil."  
"You want us to accompany you?" Ostric inquired, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.  
"Right. At least until I find what I'm looking for. I know it says you're an investigator, but could I trouble you to be bodyguards? I don't have much in terms of money, but I could probably buy you dinner?"  
Hanna perked right up at this. "Dinner sounds amazing! When do we leave?"  
"Do I get _no_ say in this?"  
Conrad's question went ignored as Toni replied, "Tomorrow morning, if that's possible." She paused, looking at the clock. "Although I guess that would actually be _this_ morning."  
"_Hello_?"  
"Yeah, we could probably do that."  
Conrad gave a 'harrumph' of irritation and slouched in his seat. "Fine, I'll just talk to myself."  
Hanna and Toni arranged to meet at the boat later in the morning, and the deal was done. Conrad retired to his own room, still grumbling over both being ignored and having to suffer being out in daylight, and Hanna and Ostric (er, Geron) went to theirs. Of course, the key issue after the meeting was listening to Hanna babble excitedly until he tired himself out and fell asleep once again.

It took roughly half of an hour.

Geron stood up and glanced out the window, watching the moon as it slowly but surely sank in the sky. There was something ominous about it, but at the same time, it was calming; it seemed to take on an odd violet sheen.  
Seeing a colored moon wasn't anything unusual to him - because of the sky in Tirisfal, the moon often took on a greenish hue. But this time... he just knew there was a meaning to it.

He watched that moon until it had nearly vanished behind the buildings surrounding them, and started on packing.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** Kinda ending this on a cliffhanger, but you'll get to officially meet Veser next! His backstory took a lot of figuring out; actually, I'm still kinda in the process of figuring it out.

* * *

**VIII.**

Hanna was broke.

Given the events of the preceding day, no one was really surprised when the red-head dug through his pockets and gave a crushed groan. "You spent all of your money buying armor and eating a second breakfast," Conrad grumbled, drawing up the hood of his cloak even further. "That first thing I can understand, but..."  
"I was still hungry," Hanna said sheepishly, wringing his hands behind his back.  
"You're a mage, aren't you? Couldn't you have conjured something?"

Blue eyes just stared. "I am _not_ a mage," he said seriously, almost offended. "I'm a runemaster. There's a difference."  
Conrad just waved a hand, although apology did come through in his eyes for a brief moment. "How hungry are you?"  
"Huh? Uh, I could survive until Darnassus, I guess."  
The Deathstalker's eyes blinked back to the half-elf, slightly confused as to what the question entailed. Conrad looked around, as if checking for authority, and sighed. "Look. If you promise to help me fix this, or at least find a way for me to not be maimed upon entering settlements... I'll buy food for you."  
Hanna gave a strange, excited sound, bringing his hands up to his face. "Gnee! You will?"  
"_If_ you fix this," Conrad repeated sharply, looking slightly embarrassed under a failing stern expression.

"No problem! If all else fails, I can probably just appeal to the Ebon Blade. I'm sure they d be happy to take you, if you made yourself useful." Hanna beamed, grabbing onto Conrad s hands. You re the best!  
"Wha - Let go of me!" Conrad stammered, pulling away and putting his hands in his pockets. "I'd prefer if you didn't touch me without some warning, at least."  
The red-head grinned apologetically, touching his forehead in a mock salute. "Yessir. Sorry."

The ship was just off into the distance when Toni stepped through the main arch, dressed once again in a black silk shirt and pants. She was just pulling her hair into a ponytail, walking both with purpose and like she had all of the time in the world. "Good morning", she greeted, waving once her hair was appropriately tied back.  
"Morning," Hanna echoed, eyes bright behind the light reflected in his glasses.  
"Everyone ready?" She looked at each of them: Hanna, wearing his usual traveling clothes and his hair a mess; the Deathstalker, his glamour flawlessly depicting him as human; Conrad, with his hood pulled up in just a way that he didn t look too suspicious. "Oh, and..." Toni slid her pack from her shoulders and opened it, digging through for a good few seconds before pulling out a bottle of... something and holding it out to the Deathstalker. "Here. This is a perfume that will mask your scent. Some of the passengers might be druids, they could see past your disguise."  
"Oh, cool. I never even thought about scent," Hanna said, fascinated. "Good thing she did, huh, Ienzo?"  
Ienzo just nodded, taking the bottle and giving it an experimental sniff. The smell of rain and earth flooded his senses, and it actually stunned him for a bit.  
"He's _very_ lucky," Toni agreed, narrowing her eyes slightly. "They would probably kill us all if they found out about him."  
Hanna just gave a nervous, innocent laugh.

The ship pulled up just as Ienzo applied the perfume, but everyone was on edge when they boarded. When they pulled away from the dock a few minutes later with no incident, he could see Hanna's shoulders slump, relieved. "So, you re from Gilneas?" he asked conversationally to Toni, sliding into a chair just across a table from her.  
Dark eyes blinked, unamused. "Yes."  
"You don't really look it."  
She crossed her legs and leaned forward on her forearms. "My mother is from Tanaris. She was exiled from her clan and was saved from death by my father, a Gilnean."  
"That makes sense," Conrad mused, removing his glasses to clean them on his shirt as he leaned against the boarded wall. "I never noticed, but I guess those from Tanaris do have some physical differences from the Eastern Kingdoms. No offense to you, Miss Ipres."  
She just gave a twitch of the lips in response. "I'm aware of my physical differences. But nationality lies in the heart; Gilneans know that." She leaned back, crossing one leg over the other with the fluid movements of a dancer and observing each face in front of her before addressing Hanna. "I can safely guess the two of you were born in Lordaeron, correct?"  
Hanna grinned slyly before shocking her with a "Nope. Guess again. Telian -" He pointed to the Deathstalker. "Doesn't remember anything about his past. And I'm..." His smile faded, a tragic sight if there ever was one, and looked down to the table. "I was from... well, it's called Deadwind Pass now. That little village just outside of Karazhan."

"Karazhan?" Conrad repeated, eyes wide. "I've... only heard legends of that place!"  
Hanna was silent. Telian cleared his throat and offered, "I think I might actually have been from Lordaeron. So in that case, she's only half-wrong." Blue eyes looked up, grateful at the topic dodging skill Telian was gifted with, but he supposed that they both knew Conrad would bring it up later. The name Karazhan rang a familiar bell in the back of his mind, but it was unreachable, offering him a dull tingling of frustration.

"And I suppose you were born and raised in Quel'thalas?" Toni continued after a suffocating pause, turning her dark eyes to Conrad.  
"Well... I think so. My father was from Hillsbrad, if my mother's stories haven't gone ripe with lies. I... think I might have lived somewhere else for a time," the half-elf confessed, scratching the back of his head.  
Toni just nodded, black hair swaying as the boat gently rocked back and forth on the waves. "I suppose that proves my point. Nothing can be told from appearance."

This silence was much more easy, now that she had had her say. Telian eventually looked between his three companions and asked, "Do any of you have a map?"

**{}**

Quite truthfully, he'd only known one or two of the names that had been thrown out in the conversation. As he unfurled Toni's map of Azeroth, he wanted to know what he was missing. The map was very new, referring to everything by the name it currently held in neatly scrawled ink.

Stop one was Gilneas. His finger treaded lightly on the parchment until he found it, connected to Silverpine Forest. Immediately, he saw the conflict: the Forsaken would want to claim all of old Lordaeron for themselves, and Gilneas could have been a threat if it joined the Alliance... which it did. He closed his eyes for a second before he reopened them and moved on.  
Deadwind Pass took a little more time to find, but he eventually discovered it nestled between Duskwood and the Swamp of Sorrows. Maybe one day, they would cross into that little bridge between territories and see the world where Hanna grew up.  
Hillsbrad was near Silverpine, but he had heard talk while in the Undercity, and knew that the human settlement there had been wiped out with the Dark Lady s plague.  
Stop three: Tanaris. That was easy to find, as it was it's own territory, located at the southern end of Kalimdor, connected to Un'goro Crater and the Shimmering Flats.

That left Quel'thalas, just north of the Plaguelands and vast in size. There was the main land, connected to the continent, and then a large island to the north. Silvermoon and The Sunwell were marked and underlined in respective areas, and he was suddenly blinded by visions.

He remembered Silvermoon through brief flashes, intense colors of gold burning in carnage, and the Sunwell through watching a large, bulking figure in dark armor pouring something from an urn into a beautiful column of light. The Sunwell.

"Ardevon?"

Hanna's voice sent him hurtling back through his mind back to where he sat on a ship to Darnassus. "Huh?" he said absently, turning to look.  
The redhead was leaning against the door frame, almost shyly, and saw the recognition as incentive to come in. "Azeroth's huge, huh?" he asked, gesturing to the map.  
"Yes... Hanna?"  
"Hmm?"  
"What happened in Karazhan?"

Glowing citrine eyes stared, unrelenting, as Hanna seemed to just dissolve. His light smile faded once again, like it had at Conrad's reaction to his origins, and a heavy sigh wracked his frail frame. "...Could you live with not knowing for a while?"  
A slow blink, and then a nod from the Deathstalker. "I suppose... I feel ignorant." He looked back to the map, eyes resting somewhere between Borean Tundra and Moonglade.  
"Memory loss isn't that uncommon in Forsaken," Hanna mentioned awkwardly. "Some... never get it back. But some do! And I'm sure you're someone that can."

Ardevon couldn't tell him that he already was.

**{}**

The sun was high in the sky as the boat finally docked. Ardevon was stunned as they stepped onto the dock, and Hanna let out a low whistle. "Man. I knew Rut'theran got destroyed, but... I never imagined this."

Beyond the cliff face holding what looked like a portal, there was nothing but ruined bits of land sticking out of the water's surface; the remaining survivors of a natural shipwreck. They sat idly, with nothing to grasp onto but the sea floor beneath them.  
Toni led the way off of the dock before turning to the rest of us. "We can rest, if you want. Some people don't take too well to teleportation."  
No one stepped forward at the offer, and she nodded, as if pleased, before she led the way up and through the portal.

His vision was overcome with a violet hue, and he stood in a daze before a hand grabbed his left arm - Hanna - and pulled him forward into Darnassus.

The first thing he noticed was that they were surrounded by water. Everything seemed to be made up of islands connected with bridges, trees that stretched nearly into the clouds surrounding them. Night Elves - or, by their formal name, Kaldorei - with skin varying through various blues and purples in color passed them all without a second look, clad in all assortments of armor.

The second thing he noticed was the fight happening not even a few yards away.

Several adolescents were creating a circle around another two, who were engaged in a brawl. One had his arms clutched around the neck of the other, screaming wildly in a language he could only guess was Darnassian.  
Hanna noticed the fight as well, and caught the attention of the group by yelling, "Hey!"

They all froze, and the boy in the headlock took the advantage; he wrestled free and delivered an uppercut to his attacker.

Hanna and the others approached just as he was telling off the the group, who had grudgingly tossed coins at him and walked away. He turned to Hanna, then, and he grinned, revealing a row of shark-like teeth. "Thanks. Thought I was gonna lose for a second." Hanna's eyes widened as he took in the appearance of the elven boy before him, because he truly was a sight: short, gray hair with curled sideburns, and his eyes were a strange, reflective green instead of the usual glowing orange. He noticed the staring, and his grin fell. "I know what you're thinking," he said, a bit irritated.  
"Wh... huh?" Hanna blinked.  
"Don't worry, I get it. I'm not stupid. I look weird, right?"  
"To put it lightly," Conrad muttered under his breath.  
The green eyes rolled. "Whatever." And with that, he spun on his heel and stormed away.

"I see you have met Veser," a Kaldorei woman said as she stopped at Toni's side.  
"Veser?" Toni asked, raising an eyebrow.  
"Indeed. I must apologize if he did or said anything offensive towards you. He is much too absorbed in human culture." Her placid silver eyes coolly flickered over each of their faces.

Ironically, they learned the most about Veser Amaker Hatch through someone that barely knew him.


	9. Origins 1: Veser

**A/N:** The first "origin" chapter, for Veser. I figured that, since the comic introduced Veser through his past, that would be the best way to introduce him here. I'm aware that this is probably not the most realistic crossbreed, or even that it probably couldn't even ever happen, but out of the choices I had for him, this made the most sense.  
For those confused, Lauriel is Lee's Warcraft-self.

* * *

Lauriel, as patient as he was, couldn't help but just sigh in exasperation when heavy footsteps stormed out of the entrance to his house just outside of Darnassus, preceded by a lamp being thrown and tormented screaming.

Of course, it had always been this way. Ever since they had found _her_.

He had been scouting one of the coasts of Ashenvale, close to what was now called Blackfathom Deeps, with one of his closest friends when they found her: a Kaldorei woman. Of course, on closer inspection, it was quite clear that she wasn't completely one of them: her eyes were reflective and green, her ears were forked and webbed, and her skin was an almost aqua hue. Realizing that she was, in fact, a partially-mutated naga, they immediately captured her, surprisingly without a fight.  
They thought she was mute at first, because when asked questions about her society, she remained silent. But when Lauriel had come to her bearing food, he could hear light singing, harsh but sweet, in the Nazja tongue. His friend offered to keep an eye on her until they could find someone who spoke Nazja.

Before he knew it, his friend was asking him to be present at their private wedding ceremony. And while he agreed, stunned, he wouldn't help but start to wonder. They had been friends for at least six hundred years, when they were but children, and there had always been an eccentric streak in the other, but... marrying a woman who was partially mutated into a _naga_?  
But he was supportive, and he could understand as time went on; despite her inability to speak Common and her cold nature, she was unnaturally attractive.  
And eventually, he found himself just as in love with her as his best friend was.

Which is why it hurt just as much to discover that, somehow, she was pregnant. Because every time he would come over and hear her beautiful singing as she cooked or sat outside by the water surrounding Astranaar, only to be pulled from his daydreams by the excited words of his friend as he wondered what his child would be like.

He could faintly remember when Veser Amaker Hatch had been born. It had been at least a hundred years earlier, and he was shocked when he saw his godson for the first time. Because Veser looked almost absolutely normal.  
The sleeping infant's skin was a beautiful pastel shade of dark lavender, ears the absolute normal length of a normal Kaldorei infant. Of course, his eyes were an intense green instead of a reflective silver or gold, almost human-looking, and his teeth were almost frightening with their shark-like appearance. But if the community hadn't know his mother's origins, they might have just assumed he had a genetic defect of some kind.

But they knew. And their disapproval was clear as they told his father that Veser would never fit into Kaldorei society.

Veser also aged a bit quicker than normal; by a mere eleven years, he was the equivalent of a human six-year old. Lauriel humbly filled his position of a godfather, often taking in the child when his friend left for excursions. But his mind and eyes would always wander back to _her_, whether she was just mixing herbs or washing clothes, because of her singing.  
Veser noticed it, too. "It's weird," he said, having finally reached the maturity of a young adult. They were both watching as she sat by the water's edge, tracing shapes in the water with her finger. "When she sings, I can understand it, but when she speaks, I can't."  
"Maybe it is a bred trait," Lauriel suggested, tying his light green hair back with a frayed piece of rope.  
Veser snorted, kicking out his legs and yawning much like a cat, his teeth casually imposing in the sunlight. "Probably. I'm already enough of an outcast as it is, might as well add that in."  
"You..." The elder elf stopped himself, because by saying that the younger boy wasn't, he would have been lying. "Should not think of it like that."  
"How else _can_ I think about it? My mom's a fish... lizard... fuck, I don't even know _what_ she is."  
"Besides partly a naga?"  
With a sigh, the adolescent ran a hand through his hair, colored a dark gray. "Besides partly a naga."

Lauriel shook his head. "Perhaps you are looking too deeply into it. You should be looking at your lineage as a gift." Veser quirked an eyebrow, but said nothing in response. "You have chores to do, do you not?"  
The hybrid muttered under his breath before spinning on his heel and heading back into the house.

The last time they spoke as two living, breathing people was shortly after Veser's parents had disappeared. It was a sudden, simple thing: one day, they were there, the epitome of a happy, if not somewhat dysfunctional family. And the next, the house was abandoned.  
Veser sat with his back to a tree, one eye half-lidded due to a black eye. "Lost a bet to some human kid," he told Lauriel, who had only noticed ten minutes after they had initially met for the day. "It's nothing."  
"Alright... will you be alright alone if your parents don't come back tonight?"

Veser scoffed. "I'm old enough to take care of myself. Have been since I could walk. Don't worry about me."

Truth be told, Lauriel didn't. His mind was focused on his best friend's wife. The bruise was of no concern; Veser was accident prone, if his build-up of injuries were any indication. And so he left the hybrid to his own thoughts, not aware that it would be the last time there would be any civil conversation between them.

As Veser watched his godfather leave, he wanted to scream: "You fucking idiot! Can't you tell I'm lying? Notice I'm lying!" But, of course, he didn't. Elune forbid he tell anyone of this weakness, of how he, with his sharp teeth and sharper tongue, was powerless against the fist of the man he called his father. But it didn't matter. This was something he had to do on his own.

If there was anything that Veser was good at, it was lying and being stubborn.


	10. Chapter 9

**A/N**: Phewwww, this took forever. That was nice little intermission, right? Right. On we go!

* * *

**IX. **

Toni knelt down at the base of a tree, examining a vibrant blue flower with her eyes narrowed in concentration. "Is that it?" Hanna asked for the fifth time, looking around for any signs of trouble.

Shortly after their arrival to Darnassus, they had rented rooms at the local inn, and Conrad had curled up on his bed, refusing to budge. "I feel ready to die," he whined, wrapping his cloak tighter around himself. "A few hours in the sun is long enough."  
They'd all agreed to let Conrad stay behind, and set out to find Toni's objective.

"Hey, Lexus," Hanna said after Toni waved his question off. "What do you think? About that half-Naga kid? I didn't even know that was possible."  
Lexus, who had been watching the nearest road unwaveringly, looked over, still observant of any movement from his peripheral vision. "I didn't, either. But I suppose it could be, under the right conditions."  
"This is it," Toni interjected suddenly, carefully digging up the plant so that it was still connected to its roots in the dirt. "Mr. Cross."  
"Oh!" The redhead started, pulling out a container from his bag and holding it out as Toni placed the flower inside of it. "We're done?"  
"Yes. Thank you, both." She gave them both a genuine smile, although it was smaller when aimed at the Deathstalker. "Let's go back now. The next boat doesn't come until morning, so we're going to be staying for the night."  
"I suppose our duties are fulfilled, then?" Lexus mused, raising an eyebrow at a large owl as it swooped down and failed an attempt to snatch away a small mouse that had been fighting through the grass to safety.  
"Yes, unless you want to risk accompanying me to Gilneas, being found out, and killed."

There was no argument, and they all started the journey back the way they had come.

"We'll stay the night," said Hanna as he jumped onto his bed and mussed up the covers. "Then we can figure out where to go from there."  
A lump of blankets shifted on Conrad's bed, and the half-elf's voice came muffled from under them: "Those... Ebon Blade people, where are they?"  
Toni looked over curiously, removing her boots with a distinguished flair. "They're off in the Plaguelands. In The Ebon Hold, Acherus."  
"The Plaguelands? Wonderful." The lump shifted again, and Conrad poked his head up from under the sheets, squinting in an effort to see. "I won't have an excuse not to keep in touch with my mother."  
"Is she that bad?" The Deathstalker didn't really care, but any conversation was better than no conversation.  
"Paranoid and convinced I'm secretly a murderer or something. Is the sun down yet?"

Toni craned her neck to look out at the city, which was alive with the chirping of cicadas and dim glow of wisps as they glided along the paths. "Just about... this place smells beautiful."  
"Can things _smell_ beautiful?" Conrad asked as he completely rose from under the covers.  
"I think so." Hanna yawned, taking off his glasses and setting them on the nearby tree stump that served as a night stand. "Like, rain and flowers and lightning."  
The Deathstalker turned, quirking an eyebrow. "Lightning has a scent?"  
"Yeah! You ever smell it? It's like... really clean, like..." Hanna gesticulated wildly, as if his hands could fill out the rest of his explanation.  
Toni chuckled, letting her hair fall free in a cascading mess of black and blue. "I suppose it all depends on who considers what to be beautiful, too."  
There was a silence. Then: "Linen that's just been cleaned." As everyone turned to Conrad, he turned his eyes to the ceiling and continued, a bit awkwardly, "And... herbs, especially rosemary and sage."  
"Oooh." The redhead leaned forward, eyes wide. "He's divuuuuulging~!"  
Conrad clamped his mouth shut and drew the covers back over his head, to the giggling of Toni.

Wisps chimed in their opalescent blue forms as they whisked past, following the various paths that winded through the impossibly tall wooden buildings and around patrolling Sentinels. And the Deathstalker with a million names found himself thinking that, out of all the places he'd seen, he had never wished he could sleep more. Something in the air had a calming effect, and he was surprised when he found his eyes drifting closed to the sound of nature. It wasn't sleep, but it was nice all the same.

Even more surprising was that Toni heard the battle first. She jolted upright in her bed, giving a low growl that sounded more animalistic than anything. The Deathstalker rose to his feet, keeping his eye on the open ramp leading into the room as he crossed over to nudge Hanna awake. "What's wrong?"  
"We've got company," she said simply, throwing off the covers and crouching low to the ground, approaching the entrance.  
Even Hanna could tell something was wrong, fully awake in much less time than normal, and threw on his clothes in a messy manner. Conrad was only just drifting off into sleep, and wasn't too happy over being forced back awake.

Then, the world outside exploded.

Screams and battle cries, and the sounds of metal clashing on metal, made Conrad yelp in terror. They came so suddenly, even the Deathstalker was taken by surprise, and Toni didn't even bother putting on her shoes as she darted out into the sunlight. "Ms. Ipres!" he called, running after her only after he knew Hanna was right behind him.  
She stopped short and ducked just as an arrow flew over her head. "What's going on?" Hanna asked, his marker shaking his his hand.  
"Good question," the Forsaken mused, eyeing the arrow cautiously.

Their first glimpse came from a single, black-clad figure coming from behind a nearby building. An orc, wearing no hood or helm, eyes fixed on Hanna. On his chest plate, the symbol of a scythe.  
The Deathstalker practically heard the runemaster's heart stop. "No," he whispered, taking a step back.  
The orc wasn't standing for long; a mace was soon smashed into the side of his head with a sickening whumph!, and he crumbled.

And there stood Veser, glorious green eyes almost glowing, sharp teeth fully visible in his snarling expression as he held the mace in both hands. "Fuckers came out of nowhere," he said, kicking the orc furiously. "We thought they were Horde, but some of them are humans and elves, too."  
"I know who they are," Hanna said hoarsely, taking everyone by surprise.  
"You do?"

Out of nowhere, another figure jumped from the shadows; this time, a Tauren, aiming a large battle axe at Veser's head. Hanna shouted a warning, but before the anyone could move, Toni was gone in a flash of black and blue. There was a screeching howl that would have made a titan pause, and the Tauren was knocked to the ground as what looked like a giant worg tore at him. "What the hell?" Veser yelled, falling and dropping his mace onto the ground.  
Hanna quickly uncapped his marker and drew a rune, sending a bolt of energy at a duo of elven archers above them. "Baradir, we need to get out of here! Grab Conrad, let's go!"  
Baradir stared at Hanna for a moment before complying, grabbing the hooded cloak from the table nearest to the door and tossing it at the cowering half-elf, who shrieked at first but complied once he saw he wasn't actually in danger.

The Tauren was lying in a mangled mess of blood and fur, but Baradir was more concerned that the worg that had attacked it was now approaching them, and he could now tell it wasn't a worg at all - or, at least, not completely one. "Oh shit oh shit oh shit _what_ is_ that_," Conrad whimpered beneath his hood.  
It was walking on two legs, fur a mix of black and brown... but as the Deathstalker looked closer, it dawned on him.

It was a worgen.

And it had Toni's hair.

"Not exactly how I wanted you to find out," the worgen said, flexing its claws. "But it's not exactly something that easily comes up in conversation."  
Conrad peeked back over Baradir's shoulder, blinking as he took it all in. Then, he said in disbelief, "_Toni_?"  
"Whoaaaa," Hanna said in awe, lowering his marker before shaking his head and taking on a serious expression that didn't fit him at all. "Anyways, we can talk about that later, but right now, we need to get out of here. Toni, Conrad, you guys get going, clear the way!"

"Not so fast," Veser yelled, scrambling back to his feet as the two obliged, racing off towards the portal out of Darnassus. "What the hell's up with -"

Hanna blinked up at him as the half-Naga cut himself short, eyes wide in terror at something behind the group. "What...?" Sensing danger, Baradir swung around, swiping at the air behind him with his sword.  
His sword went straight throw a large, glowing azure figure, skeletal but with all the features of an elf. Black liquid dripped from a completely see-through hole in its midsection, and it heaved with every breath, swelling and wheezing so sickeningly that even Baradir was uneasy. "What is _that_...?"  
"A ghost," Hanna said, swallowing heavily as it eyed him.

It spoke, a fluctuating echo that chilled the air, only one word: "_Vesssssssserrrrr_."

"...Lauriel?" the half-Naga whispered, taking a step forward. "N-no. No."

Without warning, it darted forward, wrapping itself around his ankle and tripping him. Veser fell to the ground with a clinking thud, and before anyone else could move, it rebounded and raced towards them, screeching.

"Everybody, get d-" Hanna started to warn, but was interrupted as the ghost went right through his chest. The redhead's eyes widened, and he stumbled backwards; the Deathstalker abandoned Conrad to catch Hanna just as he fell.  
"Hanna?"  
The runemaster didn't respond; his eyes were dull and staring, aimed upward at the treetops, but yet alive. "What happened? Is he alright?" Toni asked, and while her voice was quite a bit primal, it was still very worried.  
"Stunned, most likely," the Deathstalker replied after a moment of making sure Hanna was breathing.

"_Why did __**you **__get a second chance?_"

His head snapped up to see the ghost standing before them, colors like a stormy sea mixing together in a haunting dance. "What...?"

This time, the ghost lunged at _him_, arms outstretched and eyes blazing as it took him by the throat and wedge his mouth open. "_**GIVE ME YOUR CHANCE!**_"  
"Lauriel!" Veser screamed, having recovered from the sudden attack just in time to see the horrifying sight; the ghost forcing its way down the Deathstalker's throat.

He stood and reeled for a moment, gripping his hair as blue energy crackled around him, emitting from his eyes and mouth. The wind screamed around them, and he had the briefest flash of pain through his chest, and a vision of a man with a blurred face laying, bleeding, on the ground, hand reaching for the leg of someone standing above him -

"That wasn't yours to take."

The wind died, and he turned, hunched in pain, to stare at the half-Naga that now stood against him, looking pale and sick. He felt himself say, "_We both died violently... so why must __**I**__ become __**this**__?_"  
Veser lowered his eyes, looking more tired than a man that had not slept in a thousand years. "...I don't know. I really don't know." His eyes raised once again, trying to fake some sense of hardness. "But y-you can't just take his body, it's not yours!"  
The silence was deafening, to the both of them. "_What?_" the Deathstalker hissed, reaching for his dropped sword. "_Lecturing me... you sound just like your __**father**__._"  
The half-Naga reeled, eyes wide in confusion. "My... my dad?"  
"_I never understood why you had so many bruises._" Veser flinched, taking a step back as the Forsaken's hand tightened around the hilt of the sword. "_Or why you lied so much. . . But now I do. Why didn't you tell me_?" And suddenly, he lunged, swinging his sword in a downward arc. "_Tell me he was a sadistic __**bastard**__?_"

Veser cried out, dodging and landing on his knees to crawl away from the attack, and running into a wall to dodge a second swing. "How _could_ I tell you?" he cried, eyes fixed on the sun glinting off of the steel blade. "You'd been friends since Elune knows when, I couldn't just -" He ducked to avoid the sword swinging above his head, but stumbled from the force and hesitated, just for a second.  
A second that proved to be fatal, as the Deathstalker - or, Lauriel - saw the chance to deal a finishing blow. He lifted the sword above his head -

A flash of purple knocked it right out of his hands, lodging it into the wood siding of a building nearby. He spun, eyes fixing onto the source of the attack.

Hanna stood strong across from him, arm outstretched as a symbol burned red on the palm of his hand. "Listen here," he growled dangerously. "You get out of Asmodion _right now _or I _will_ blow you all the way to Outland." He lowered his arm, positioning the marker above his bare forearm. "I will count to _fucking_._ Three_. One -"  
"_What..?_"  
"Two -"

_Blinking, Asmodion looked around at the echoing, fading voice that filled the empty air. "Hanna?" he asked, perplexed -_

"THREE!" Hanna raced forward, scribbling a symbol onto his arm and letting out a ferocious cry, a glowing force of electric blue.

And both Veser and the husk of a Forsaken could do nothing but watch, in a mixture of awe and surprise.


	11. Chapter 10

**A/N:** Hey, finally! Chapter ten! With plenty of weird imagery and plot-moving!

* * *

**X.**

The mansion that sat before him was ruined - that, he knew for sure.

He didn't know how he got there. Hell, he didn't even know who he was. All he knew was that everything was enveloped in an ashy grey fog, there was no sign of life besides himself, and there was a mansion that was far too familiar for comfort.

Dilapidated to the point it could barely be constituted as a house, everything was the color of dead wood, murky like a shadow in swamp water.

He felt the wind, piercingly cold, against his skin, and knew he was dreaming. He had to be dreaming; he was alive here. His flesh was a healthy peach color, not the rotted green he was used to, and his breath hung heavily in the air around him, becoming desperate when he tried to see if he could go without breathing.  
He couldn't see beyond the fog in any direction but towards the mansion. With no other option in sight, he approached and testingly pushed against the rotted door.

It disintegrated at his touch, leaving nothing but flakes of ash floating to the ground below.

As soon as he entered, the doorway disappeared entirely, replaced by a rotted wooden wall, and the entire parlor he had stepped into filled itself with headless, life-sized dolls. They were suspended by wires wrapped around their arms, and they were all dressed like various common folk, but there was no sign of blood or injury. It was almost as if their heads had been cleanly severed by someone with perfect precision.

Unnerving, to say the least. He looked down, noticed the loose black coat he was wearing, and buttoned it up to fight off the chill that went down his spine. "Where am I?" he asked out loud, not expecting the dolls to answer.

_"Who are you to a dead man?"_

The voice came from directly above him, but when he jumped and looked up to find the source of the foreign entity, he was alone - save for the hanging dolls. "What's going on?"

There was a quiet trill from his right, the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard. He jerked his head in the direction of this new sound, and looked up the staircase when he heard it again. Finding no other solution - there were no other doors leading out - he took a breath and weaved through the hanging dolls toward the staircase.

As soon as he stopped at the base of the stairs, he heard a fluttering, and looked up to see a little white bird slowly floating down the stairs and towards him. But as he held out his hand to catch it, he soon realized it wasn't an actual bird; it was a bird that had been folded from paper. "Where'd you come from, little guy?" he asked, but the bird was up and flitting back up the stairs by the end of the question. After getting about halfway up, it stopped and turned towards him, and he swore he heard chirping. "I guess I have no choice but to follow you," he mused.

The paper bird bobbed in the air and let out a happy tweet. And so, he slowly started to make his way up the stairs.

The wood creaked sickeningly under his feet, and the wooden walls of the house got blacker and blacker as he went up. As he reached the top, he could actually smell smoke. "You! H-human!"

He turned to see an elf, a frantic expression in his glowing gold eyes; the left side of his face was coated in blood, and his movements were jerky and stiff. The elf stumbled forward, pulling at the collar of his leather armor. "D-do you know Veser? Someone is after him, to k-kill him - they almost got me, too - I need to warn him! Do you know where he is?"

The paper bird had grown silent, turning yellow with the dampness of the air. But the nameless man barely noticed, so taken was he with the elf that stood before him. The voice was too familiar.

The elf, however, was growing more uneasy, and stepped forward, obviously not used to talking to a human. "I-if... it would not bother you, could you... please... say something."

The Deathstalker was quiet for yet another second before, carefully and finally, replying with, "I... I'm sorry, but..."

"We're both dead."

The elf reeled at this, eyes widening, and more blood poured from his head wound until it almost completely covered his face. It was unnerving to watch, to say the least, as the golden eyes turned a vibrant, glowing blue and he turned away, letting out a dry laugh. "I... I had a feeling. Nothing is right here... but I just did not want to believe it. I suppose that other human was right."  
"Other human?"  
The elf didn't elaborate, only shaking his head. "I was so damn stupid."

Compared to the formal language the elf had been using, this sentence was a bit of a shock. But before he could even begin to register the meaning of what he'd been told, the hallway they stood in started to get brighter and brighter; he could feel himself being lifted up, while he watched the floor disappear and the elf sink into the darkness. "Wait!" He reached out, watching his skin be bathed in light and the bird flutter away into nothingness.

"Who would have imagined I be type to deny death...?"

He wanted desperately to get more information, let the elf know Veser was safe, and know about the man he had mentioned. But the light was too bright and, soon enough, he saw nothing but white, and not even closing his eyes could keep it out of his head. Then, he felt himself falling, the jerk of falling -

"Alexandros!"

His eyes slowly opened to fuzziness, slowly sharpening enough to make out the outlines of Hanna's fiery red hair and relieved blue eyes. "Oh, thank the Light you're okay!"  
Slowly, the Deathstalker sat up, blinking. Images were coming in clearer now: Toni, shifting back into human form and fixing her ponytail with hard concern in her eyes; Veser, exhausted and sitting with the head of his mace firm against the ground; Conrad, with his cloak draped up and over his head, leaving only red eyes reflecting in the light. "Is everyone alright?"

"Us?" Hanna blinked, surprised. "_You're_ the one that got possessed, I should be asking -"  
"I'm fine." Alexandros cut him off, looking at him pointedly. "Are _you_?"  
The redhead flushed and laughed. "Haha, yeah! I'm fine! Why are you asking?"  
The Forsaken merely stared, raising an eyebrow in a silent 'really?' before turning back to Veser. "Veser."

The half-Naga jumped, looking up with weary eyes. He was tired, there was no doubt about that. "Uh - yeah?"

"He was looking for you. He wanted... to warn you." Alexandros didn't want to bring up such a deep wound so soon, but he knew that if he didn't say anything now, he never would. "Someone killed him. And... apparently, they're after you." The half-Naga slowly lowered his head, and was silent. "But... it would be a lot safer if you came wi..."

He cut himself off at the sniffling.

For a good moment, it was the only sound; the sound of a boy who had just had his world shattered. Finally, he looked up, eyes closed and tears staining his face, with a sound that could only dare call itself laughter. "Fuckin'..."  
Hanna bit his lip, and started to say something, but Veser waved him off and stood. "Is there anywhere you guys need to go? I think it's safe to say you're too interesting to just let walk away. So..." He paused, swinging his mace at his side. "I'm just going to hang around you guys for a while. Okay?"

Hanna looked at the rest of his little team, as if for permission. When no one objected, he shrugged. "Well, if you want, you can totally come with. But are you sure? I mean, you can stay and get all your thoughts together or something."  
"Nah." The half-Naga sniffed again and looked back, with a snarky grin. "I mean, yeah, I wanna grab somethin' first, but otherwise -" He spread out his arms. "This is it."  
Hanna stared at him for a moment. Then, a look of understanding came into his eyes. "Alright. You can meet us at the portal, okay?"  
Veser just waved as he embarked on his own personal journey.

"Are you sure you want to bring him with?" Conrad asked, eyes on the ground to keep himself inconspicuous. Elves were running to and fro, rushing orders to the Sentinels placed by the gates. They were all still quite jittery about the attack, it seemed. "Seems like he's got a bit of baggage with him."  
"Don't we all?" Hanna replied, smiling and clapping a hand on Conrad's shoulder. "Besides, he looks like he can take care of himself pretty well."  
"But right after... whatever just happened back there?" Toni slung her armor over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow.  
"I'm sure the only thing on his mind right now is to get the hell out of here. And I know the feeling enough to sympathize, so I'm gonna help him." Hanna shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "What about you, anyway? Since you got what you need, are you just going to head back to Gilneas?"  
Toni actually contemplated this for a minute. "Seems like a smart thing to do. But I think I can trust it to flight mail." At the raised eyebrows she got, she smiled and laughed. "What? He had a point, you're too interesting to just let go. And I don't mind a little adventure."  
"Ugh," Conrad groaned, daring to put his head in his hands. "At this rate, you're going to get an entire group behind you."

The Deathstalker at Hanna's side wanted to say 'I think that point's already passed', but checked himself and instead asked, "Where are we going next?"  
"Well... we can't stay here. We got lucky that those guys let up on the attack so easily, but they might come back. So... I'm thinking we should make a break to Outland. Just for a day or two." Hanna avoided everyone's eyes as he relayed his plan, and seemed to tense his shoulders. He knew what question was coming next.  
"Who were those guys, anyway?" Veser completed the whole process as he approached, adjusting a strap across his chest that kept a harpoon on his back; he'd heard at least the last bit of conversation.

Hanna was quiet, and sighed. "They're called the Scythe of the Order. They're, uh, just a bunch of fanatics that really don't like the fact humans can use rune magic. I've been doing a good job of avoiding them for a while, but... I guess they found me."  
"I guess so," Veser replied, a bit sarcastically. "So, where in Outland? Shattrath?"  
Hanna nodded, straightening up and practically glowing. "Have any of you guys seen it? Light, it's beautiful - oh man, _especially_ this time of year!" His eyes widened in realization. "Man, we really lucked out - on the timing, not the attacks."  
"No duh," Toni muttered, lightly shoving him with her elbow with her eyes sparkling just slightly. "Lead the way, o mighty leader."


End file.
